Wandering Around This Town
by Geekery15
Summary: After demeaning situations occur while being held captive, Gibbs and Ziva find themselves struggling with their emotions and their positions as teammates. WARNING: Sexual situations within first chapter that some might find offensive!
1. Instructions

**Title: Wandering Around This Town  
Author: Geekery15  
Rating: R (Language, some sexual situations, and possible violence)  
Summary: After demeaning situations occur while being held captive, Gibbs and Ziva find themselves struggling with their emotions and their positions as teammates.  
Spoilers: None  
Time Period: Middle/End of Season 3  
Feedback: Why the hell not? I'm always hungry anyway  
Disclaimer: The characters of NCIS do not belong to me.**

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**Chapter 1: Instructions**

The room is poorly lit with the one string bulb dangling in the middle of the room. Rusty nails hold together pieces of termite infested wood as they stay sloppily stacked against one of the dingy walls.

A man lazily paces the dusty and cracked floor. His gun is tucked halfway into the front of his denim jeans. His wavy hair falls over his forehead and eyes, but his vision is anything, but blurred.

A dense knock fills the empty room and breaks his pacing. Walking over to the door, he opens the latch of the small door inside the door and greets the person behind the door.

"Send them in." He orders before slamming the small door shut and locking it.

A beaten woman is thrown inside the room. Her body makes contact with the cement floor with a sick sounding thud. She coughs from the dust that has elevated off the floor.

He stands over her for a moment; reading her expression, then kicks her in her side.

A man falls to the ground behind him. His face and body are beaten, but he is able to lift himself from the ground in a matter of seconds. The rusty handcuffs keep his hands cuffed behind his back.

"Come here." He speaks to the man behind him.

His footsteps are slow and cautious, but soon he is standing in front of the man as he was told to do.

"Help her up." His eyes flicker to the woman laying nearly still on the floor.

Gibbs jerks against his handcuffs to alert the man of his restraints. Waiting a moment, the man finally unlocks the lock and releases Gibbs from his contraption. Turning around quickly he reaches Ziva and is able to get her to stand somewhat, but soon she begins to fall and he catches her. Her battered body makes a low thud against his battered body.

"Over there." The man rests his hand on his gun, ready to pull it out of his pants if there are to be any protests.

"Where?" Gibbs wants specific information incase any random decision could be their last.

"Against the wall--any wall."

The man begins to follow them over to a secluded wall without any pieces of wood blocking their paths. Gibbs stops when he can not go any further and positions Ziva against the wall in order to help her steady her legs.

"Get to it."

Gibbs feels the breath of the man near his ear. He half-turns with his hands still out for Ziva in case she decides to give out on him again. "To what?" He questions; his tone gruff and tired.

"Fucking her."

Ziva hears the words and they sting her violently. She tries to lift her head to show the plea in her eyes to the scary man who cares nothing about her or her team leader.

Gibbs opens his mouth to speak, but finds it hard to find his breath.

"There is no fucking time to waste." The man finally thrusts his hot weapon in Gibbs face. "If I do this correctly, the bullet that kills you just might kill her as well."

Gibbs finds it hard to swallow. He hears Ziva's breath hitch in her throat.

"I can't do this." Gibbs finds his words and his weakness. "Shoot me if you have to, but leave her."

"It doesn't work that way, Special Agent Gibbs. I kill you, I fuck her, then I kill her."

Gibbs takes a forward step and stares the monster completely in the eyes.

"You are in my control now, Agent Gibbs." The monster flashes a grim smile. "Decisions…decisions…" He makes 'tsking' sounds with his mouth.

Ziva wants to die--to vanished. To disappear. To be anywhere…but here.

Gibbs begins to pray for savior. He thinks about what joy it would be to see DiNozzo with a smoking gun after he shoots this mad man dead. How wonderful it would be to McGee rushing in as his backup. Any means of help--even from the damn FBI.

Turning around he feels the tip of the gun pointing in his back. With his eyes he tries to send her a wordless message, but he can't. Her slightly swollen eyes are flickering towards the ceiling as if she is trying her hardest to leave her body.

"Zi--" He stops when he feels the gun pushing deeper into his back. "Alright already, get that fucking gun off of me!" He snaps, causing her to look sharply at him.

"Get to it!" The man recovers the gun from his back, but keeps it aimed.

Gibbs hates the feeling of uncertainty, but it is all he can feel at the moment. He wishes she would look him directly in the eyes, but she has moved her gaze past him and refuses to look at him.

"I SAID GET TO IT!" The man behind him is impatient. Grabbing one of Gibbs' hands he pushes it inside Ziva's shirt.

Ziva feels the tips of Gibbs' fingers against her nipple. The instant contact makes her grow more uncomfortable.

"Sorry." He says weakly as he feels the man push his other hand under her shirt and it makes contact with her other breast.

She hates herself for tears that threaten to fall. She hates herself for ever coming to America.

"Enough of that."

Gibbs stills his hands and removes them from under her shirt. His mind flashes to McGee and Tony, wishing they would find them already. In matter of seconds his mind flashes to the button and zipper he has already undone on her pants. As instructed he pulls pushes one of his hands inside the front of her underwear. Two of his slender fingers begin to rub at her bundle of nerves.

Her breathing is sharp and uneven. His cold fingers begin to warm from her heat. A throaty moan threatens to escape her, but she swallows it. Her desire is mixed with humiliation and embarrassment.

"Doesn't that feel good, Gibbs-y?" The man chuckles viciously behind him.

"Bastard." He mutters under his breath as he continues to work his hand.

"She's close." He gives Gibbs a warning he never wanted to hear from someone else in any situation.

Gibbs looks at her sweaty face. Her mouth is closed, but he can see her jaw clenching and unclenching. "Ziva." He says her name hoping for a look from her, but she refuses to open them and look at him.

"Faster." The man instructs him.

Gibbs hesitates, but soon picks up the pace a little. He watches her mouth open now and her breath comes out in short, urgent puffs. In a matter of moments his own instincts tells him she is close, but she is holding back.

Just then his hand his yanked from inside of her underwear. He feels his moist fingers hit the chilled air.

Her eyes clench tighter as she feels the rushed departure and the sting of an unresolved release burning her.

Tears now form in Gibbs' eyes. He never wanted to see her this way.

The man laughs at the two people in front of him. Even with Gibbs' back turned, he can sense the redness and burning in his eyes from tears that threaten to fall.

"Don't be a pussy, Gibbs-y." He teases.

"Bastard." Gibbs says through a clenched jaw.

The mad man throws his head back in a hearty laugh. Reaching in his back pocket, he throws a package near Gibbs' feet.

"Put it on."

Gibbs keeps his eyes focused on Ziva's face. Tears are spilling the corners of her eyes like a waterfall. He only moves when he feels the gun jab him in his shoulder. Reaching somewhat blindly on the floor, he grabs a hold of the item and brings it closer to his face.

"It'll fit. Put it on." The man roughly orders him.

Ziva feels his hands slowly running down her legs as he removes her pants. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her underwear, he pulls them down slowly and then moves her feet so he can get them off of her.

He can hear the pleasured sigh of the man behind him and feels an impulse to shoot the bastard dead. If only he had his weapon…

Seconds later, Ziva can hear the unbuttoning and unzipping of his pants. The rustling of the plastic foil quickly registers in her mind.

Gibbs' pants still cover the back of him as he carefully lifts one of her legs over his bruised waist.

"Ziva, please…" He voice is low; nearly a whisper. "Look at me…I can't…"

"You can't do this?" The man sticks the gun in his back once again. "Man up, Gibbs-y."

Ziva feels him enter after a few moments. He is slow and cautious, but when he withdraws and pushes in once more, she feels a sharp sting.

"I'm sorry." His head is down; his eyes squeezed shut. He can't find the strength to look at her.

His own desire flickers in a crossroad. He is disgusted with himself for trapping them in the hands of a mad man and now taking advantage of his newest partner.

"Faster."

With the gun pushing harder in his back, he shakily raises her other leg and wraps it around his waist. With one hand against the wall and the other hand holding her body gently, he quickens his pace.

Her breathing turns into a constant humming. Her hands are tiny fists against the wall. Her eyes shut tightly and securely.

Gibbs misses a step and double thrusts causing her to breath to catch in her throat.

"Don't get sloppy on me, Gibbs-y." The man taunts him.

Sweat pours from Gibbs face. His body tired from trying to find a balance between finding release and holding back release.

A loud knock tries to interrupt his actions, but the man forces him to continue while he orders the person in.

As he hears the muffled voices of the men, he tries to grab Ziva's attention.

"Ziva." He says lowly. "Ziva…Ziva…Ziva…" He is failing to get her eye contact.

"Shows over, Gibbs-y."

Gibbs sees the room go completely pitch dark and they hear the loud sound of a door slamming shut and being locked.

They are still connected, but still. Their breathes are heavy and moist. They can feel each other, but they can not see each other.

Gibbs wants to withdraw--he has enough composure and stamina to force his own pleasure away, but before he can prepare himself, he feels her push against him.

Ziva feels her hips involuntarily thrust in the direction of his. He fills her completely and she begins to buck uncontrollably against him as she shatters.

Her movements and throaty moan send him off in seconds.

Within seconds, she is desperately searching for her underwear and pants. Gibbs stands by her, still in complete darkness, trying to talk to her.

"Let me help you." He tries. "Please, Ziva…don't shut me out. Not now, not here…we need to find a way to get out of here."

"You should have thought about that before you…you…" She collapses to the floor in body shaking sobs.

Gibbs leaves her to try and find the string that will activate the lighting again, but fails.

"GODDAMN IT!!!" His voice is hoarse from anger and sadness.

Ziva continues to cry in the corner of the room.

Gibbs reaches for his head and pulls at his hair in fistfuls.

Darkness and silence swallows the room.


	2. Crime Scene

**Chapter 2: Crime Scene**

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo stands with his camera around his neck. McGee is in charge of bagging and tagging any possible evidence. Gibbs and Ziva are with Ducky, Palmer and an ambulance; their wounds being cleaned and bandaged.

* * *

"He got away?" Ducky tries his hardest not to frown at his long-time friend.

"Yeah--Duck." He snaps sharply at him. "Are you finished?"

"Just a moment." He tends to another wound open gash in Gibbs' shoulder.

Ziva glares at the paramedic who wants to give her a more thorough exam. "I am fine!" She grabs the dangling band-aid and covers a scrap near her elbow. "Out of my way."

"Ziva." Gibbs says her name to get her attention, but she walks completely past him. "Ziva!"

Ducky pushes Gibbs down, making him sit again.

"Damn it Duck--give me the damn thing!" He grabs the bandage and slaps it on a wound that hardly needsit.

Ducky stands there staring at his friend hurry after the team's newest member. A million questions burn his thoughts.

* * *

Her feet travel through the darkened hallway of the abandoned building. Her face is clean. No more blood, no more tears.

"Ziva." He finally reaches her. "Talk to me!"

"Where did you put it?" She stops and faces him. He shrugs in confusion. "The condom. Where is it?"

"I got rid of it…like you said." He looks quickly to his feet before facing her once again. "Nobody has to know."

"Correction!" She sticks her face straight into his. "Nobody will know."

He holds his breath, then nods. Swallowing, he opens his mouth to say something more--but she is already gone.

* * *

Tony feels her presence, but unlike other times, he decides not to snap a photo of her for mindless fun.

"Everything okay?" His eyes flash with concern.

"Correct." She forces a small smile on her face. One she hopes he can read. "Found anything?"

"I got nothing. How about you, Probie?" He calls to his tech-y partner.

"Only blood." He says almost merrily until he stands and looks at Ziva. "…I mean--"

"It's fine, McGee." She assures him.

Gibbs enters the room. His gut twists, but he pushes his feet forward and walks over to McGee.

"Get that to Abby."

"Right away boss." McGee says, but lingers to scan the floor around him once more.

"DiNozzo?"

"Yeah, boss?" Tony holds the camera in his hand, ready to take a few last shots.

"Good job." He stands still and looks directly in his eyes.

"It was nothing." Tony is as equally serious as his superior. "We heading back?"

Gibbs nods, then looks to Ziva for a second. Any time he tries to find her eyes and hold her attention, she finds a distraction.

Tony shuffles out of the room, then Ziva. Gibbs takes one more look at the room. The familiar wall haunts him and he shakes his head to clear the image.

"Come on, Mcgee." He says, then leaves the room.

McGee stands straight and begins walking out of the room. A piece of plastic crunches under his shoe. Stopping a moment, he bends down to pick it up with his gloves. A part of him tells him it is nothing, but the other part of him tells him that he should bag it for evidence anyway.

* * *

Director Shepard stares out of her window and patiently waits for her ex-partner, ex-lover, and current Agent to walk through her office door. She thinks of what he might say because he is so utterly predictable--at least in her opinion.

She grins when she hears the door open, without a knock, and a slight breeze changes the air circulation in the room. She inhales and smells the familiar scent of coffee.

"You could be a walking campaign for coffee, Jethro."

"Yeah Jen, you needed to see me?" He doesn't care for her jokes or her usual way of teasing him.

She turns and looks at him. An eyebrow raises, but soon it settles down to the same level as the other. As she takes a seat in her chair, she motions for him to take one of his own.

He sighs. He does not want to sit, but he does so anyway.

"You and Ziva seem to have been through the wringer on this last case--"

"Case is still under investigation." He cuts her off to correct her.

She nods. "I haven't had a chance to speak to her. Is she alright?"

He shrugs in a kind of usual way. "Sure. She's fine." He clears his throat. "A little bruised. Nothing serious."

"Is this your way of telling me she refused medical treatment and you were okay with that?" A smirk plays on her lips.

"No. A paramedic took care of her. Nothing serious."

She nods, taking his serious expression as the truth. "And you?"

"Fine." He clears his throat again.

"Cold?"

"I never get sick." He stands now, his legs itching to carry himself out and away from her office and her. "I've got work to do, Jen."

"It's good to get you back, Jethro. Send Ziva up."

His hand lingers on the door knob as he thinks about his Agent. "She might be busy." His back faces his superior.

"Then as soon as she has a free moment, please tell her it is urgent that I speak with her."

He swallows, then opens the door and leaves.

* * *

Gibbs returns to his squad. His throat feels tempted to be cleared again, but he shakes his head a bit.

"What's up, boss?" Tony takes notice.

"You're asking me?" He walks over to his flashy Agent. "Well?"

"Abby's analyzing the photos." He says quickly. "Take it away Probie!"

"Huh-uh-er--" McGee is flustered. "Abby has the evidence I bagged."

Gibbs nods and returns to his desk; purposely skipping Ziva's corner. McGee turns his wide-eyes over to Tony who has a set of wide-eyes as well. After a few moments Tony shrugs to McGee.

After a few more minutes of silence, Tony begins a short email to his female partner. After pressing send, everyone hears the alert coming from her computer.

Ziva continues to use her computer, but chooses not to open her email.

"You've got mail." Tony says in a sing-song voice, but he is very serious as well.

"Leave me alone, Tony." Her voice is bitter.

Tony shifts his gaze from her to Gibbs. Gibbs flickers his eyes back to his computer screen. Soon Tony falls on McGee who offers him a look and a shrug.

Gibbs can not take the silence and the uncomfortable feeling that is with him whenever he is around her. Exiting his email, he stands from his desk and begins walking around it.

"Where to boss?!" Tony is ready to investigate some more.

"Coffee run." Gibbs mutters.

Ziva inhales his scent as he rushes past her. Swallowing, she fishes around the inside of her desk for Tylenol.

"So I heard about your hot date this weekend, McStud…" Tony balls up a piece of computer paper and throws it directly at McGee's face.

"I didn't have a hot date this weekend, Tony." He picks the paper ball from on top his keyboard and throws it in his trash can. "And quit playing around. Boss will be back any minute."

"Oh that's right--I was the one with the hot date this weekend. Actually--there were two." Tony falls into his usual daze. "And stop being such a tight-ass. Gibbs knows we work hard."

"Right…" McGee says sarcastically. "That's why you receive as many head-slaps as you do."

"It's love." Tony insists.

"Whatever To--"

"ENOUGH!" Ziva throws a box of staples at Tony and a pencil at McGee. "Both of you shut your mouths…"

Tony sits completely straight in his chair. McGee's fingers still over his keys. They both look at her with large eyes.

"Are we having a problem, Ms. David?"

"We are having a headache. I--I'm having a headache." She mentally kicks herself.

Jenny stands at the top of the stairs and looks at the three Agents having a disagreement of some sort.

"Ziva!" She calls for her.

"Director." Ziva's voice is normal.

"May I see you for a few minutes?"

"I'll be right there, Director." She pushes herself away from her desk and stands.

* * *

McGee hears the phone on his desk ring and answers it on the phone ring. "McGee."

"It's me." Abby's voice is perky. "Get down here."

"What's up?" He notices a slight difference in her voice.

"Just get down here. Bring Tony, too!"

He hangs up his phone and stands. He thinks of any reason that would explain why Abby did not request Ziva come along as well.

"Tony, let's go. Abby wants us."

"Don't kid yourself, McGee. Women want me, they do not want you." Tony has to be an asshole to his nearest sidekick. "Lead the way McFly."

"What about me?!" Ziva calls from her desk.

"Uh--Abby just said for the both of us to come down." McGee tells her, but feels the weirdness in his answer.

"Fine. I'll just sit here and wait, then." She sighs as she crosses her arms around her chest.

The two Agents flee from their work area and board the elevator. Their mission: Abby's lab.

Ziva hears another elevator and feels the presence of her coffee guzzling team leader again. Her mind replays the events that took place while they were being held captive and it interrupts whatever good feelings she thought she could ever have for him.

Her head continues to throb. Humiliation cruises through her body and she hopes it is entirely on the inside--so no one can see.

Gibbs stops to put a cup of fresh coffee in front of her. The strong stench makes her open her eyes. The heat from the tiny sip hole instantly warms her chilled face.

"Take it." He gives her a gentle order.

She picks up the fresh cup of scolding coffee and dumps it inside of her trashcan.

"That make you feel better?" He begins to grind his teeth together.

She turns her attention to her computer screen and ignores his question. Sighing, he walks over to his desk and finds his chair. Dragging it by the back, he positions it to the side of her and her desk.

"I want to talk to you." He says, but she continues to click her mouse. "Damn it Ziva, this isn't just going to go away!"

"I know." She squeezes her mouse tightly, but does not look at him. "What do you suppose I do then, Special Agent Gibbs?"

He swallows, not knowing what to say to her now that she is willing to speak to him.

"You have nothing to say." She turns to him and finally catches his eyes. "You want to say something, but you have no fucking idea what to say to me."

"I'm--"

"I'm sorry." She finishes for him. He gives her a questionable look. "I let my weakness show. I failed myself."

"Ziva--"

"I cried. Weak. Pathetic." She feels the urge to slap herself across the face. "That isn't a part of my training. That isn't a part of who I am."

He leans back a little in his chair and continues to listen.

"I let them strip me of my honor. I let them take me down…" She feels completely stupid. "And…I let you think I was sort of…"

"Don't say something you know isn't true." He says before she finds the word. "They got to me, too."

She inhales. She is tired. Her head still throbs.

* * *

Abby and McGee look worriedly at each other as Tony tries to take control of the situation.

"The blood sample matches Gibbs' blood…" Tony says for the millionth time.

"It isn't the blood that is the big deal, Tony." McGee is tired of hearing the same thing.

"Don't you think I know that, Probie?" Tony's face is disgruntled.

"Who do you suppose used it?" Abby asks the right question.

"I thought you said Gibbs' prints were on the outside?" Tony smacked McGee right on the back of the head. "Hey!"

"She was being sarcastic."

"Not quite, Tony." She looks uncomfortable. "This is serious…if Gibbs' prints were on the package that means he must have used it…for something."

"Himself, perhaps?" Tony does not attempt to sugar-coat.

"One of us has to ask him."

"Oh, most certainly, Probie." Tony says.

Abby catches on to Tony's plan and begins to stare at McGee.

"Not me." McGee puts his heads up in front of him and begins to shake them. "It was just a suggestion."

"I can't ask him. It'd be too weird." Abby beats Tony to the punch line.

"…Damn it…" Tony says, then remembers their missing teammate. "How about Ziva?"

"What makes you think she'd do it?"

"Are you kidding me?" Tony knocks McGee in the stomach with his hand. "She hasn't even been here a complete year and she's said no to him more times than either of us have. She's straight to the point--typical Gibbs style. If anyone has the balls to ask him, it's Ziva."

McGee doesn't waste a moment to agree.

They look to Abby and she flashes them the thumbs up.


	3. Flashbacks

**Author's Note:** Hey guys first and foremost takes for the reviews. This really isn't my usual style, but the idea popped in my head--I thought about it for a few days and then decided I would give it a try.

I also would like to apologize for not putting a proper warning at the top of the first chapter for the situations that occurred. I really should have, but instead I figured that a mature rating would have been enough.

Lets see…I know that Ziva and Gibbs share the reality that they both slept with someone to get ahead in a case, but that never phased me when I thought about this fic and what I wanted it to be. There's really no reason that Ziva shouldn't show emotion--yes, even crying--she was taken advantage of. She is a trained assassin and sure, Gibbs is "Gibbs", but during the time I am trying to make this take place, she's the newbie--and Gibbs is still giving her hell on and off as he did during episodes of season 3--and really, he's her boss.

Of course I am not trying to say that Ziva isn't a strong person because she is, but I just feel like given the circumstances she is unsure on how to handle what has happened--not to mention Gibbs who is struggling with it as well.

With that said I am open to any ideas or suggestions. I'm kind of on and off with this fic so any help could be very helpful to me. Also, I will try to update as much as I can. I've got work, but classes just started up again today--so ya'll know how that goes.

That's all I have to say for now….so thanks again for the reviews and catch ya'll on the flip side. **LATER DAYS--**

**-Geek.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Flashbacks**

Saw dust flies through the air. Gibbs is hard at work, sanding his boat though his hands are still sore in certain spots. The guts he received from the blade of the knife--the gash he gave himself when he threw a punch and missed--hit a nail in the wall--and blood dripped down.

He rubs the wood and feels its smoothness under his hands. Using his two fingers he runs them in an up and down fashion--then yanks his hand away from his boat as his mind begins to flicker.

"_Doesn't that feel good, Gibbs-y?" _

"_She's close." _

A loud crash fills the room as he yanks the top off her bourbon and begins to guzzle the acquired taste hoping that the faster he gets his fix, the easier it will be to find rest before work in the morning--but then his phone rings and he rips the bottle from his lips. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he finds his cell phone and reads the unavailable number that flashes across the screen.

* * *

She thinks to enter his house, but being surrounded by his things is something she could do without. Standing tall, she takes a deep breath before pounding on his front door.

Downstairs Gibbs hears a few bangs. Dropping his sandpaper on a part of his boat, he climbs the stairs in four wide steps and exits his basement.

She bangs again; this time harder as a small cloud of smoke forms from her breath filling the frigid night air.

"Ziva." He says her name with a touch of relief and a hint of fear. "What are you doing here?"

"Tony asked me a favor today." She looks quickly past his shoulders, then focuses back at him, but makes sure to keep her eyes focused on his only for a few seconds in-between. "He wanted me to ask you if you used a condom."

His breath catches in his throat as his eyes grow wide.

"He doesn't know. That isn't the point." She feels the coldness starting to nip at her bones through her winter coat. "Abby found your fingerprints on the outside of the package."

"Where did the package come from?"

"You're asking me?" She wants to hit him. "I thought I told you to dispose of any evidence."

"I did--I got rid of the actual condom." His stomach turns as he speaks about this with and to her. "I had no idea anyone would find the wrapper."

"McGee found it. It crunched under his shoe." She shakes her head, then stays still while her eyes remain closed. "You have to tell them a story--make something up. Tell them you fucked someone while being held captive."

He does not move. He does not say anything.

"Don't mention my name."

"I feel it too, Ziva!" He finally say--and louder than he ever intended.

"I'm sure you did."

"You pushed into me--I tried to hold back." He finds himself grasping for any means available that can defend his stance.

"You pushed into me--first." She corrects him. "And you prodded me, first."

"I had no choice. If I didn't do it--what would have happened?"

"So you're proud of what you did?"

"I never said that."

"You implied it!" Her feet are now turning numb from the cold.

"Don't put words in my mouth--Ziva--I'd never be proud of something like that." He can taste the bourbon on his breath.

She can not deal with the situation anymore for the time being. The cold is getting to her and her head is beginning to hurt.

"I need to leave."

He does not want her to go, but he knows she will never agree to stay.

"Don't worry. I'll handle DiNozzo."

"…And the rest of the curious team…" She reminds him before jetting off of his front steps and into her car.

He watches her leave from the open door. He sees her hands shake as they open her car door and she sees the uncertainty in her profile before she drives away.

Slamming the door, he presses himself against the wall and tries to breathe in deeply. Never in his life did he ever expect his guard to be knocked down from him--especially in such a way he was forced to take advantage of a teammate.

The feeling twists his gut in several different directions all at once. He is done drinking for the night. He must find sleep.

* * *

Her apartment never felt so unreal to her. Suddenly her things seemed to be a poor excuse for what she left back home. Her lamps were low, her bookshelf full of books she hardly found time to read, and a kitchen she wishes she could cook in more often.

Life as an NCIS Agent seemed to be growing on her until a very recent time--one where she felt parts of her boss during a humiliated experience. Though, she is thankful for the lights that were turned off on them. The last thing she needed was for him to see her face during her release.

* * *

Tony stands in front of his Boss while McGee falls back a little from them.

"It's a rule." Gibbs says so matter-of-factly.

"It's a rule to sleep with someone while on a case?" Tony is loving the idea already. "Mind if I try that?"

"There has to be a reason for it, DiNozzo." Gibbs tries to enforce some logical sense into his overly-active teammate.

"…A personal reason or one that has to do with the case?"

Gibbs head-slaps him. "Don't get smart."

"Right boss." Tony turns, but flashes McGee an intoxicated smile.

"So I guess all we have is your blood." McGee's palms begin to sweat when he sees Gibbs' surprised look. "Well--I mean, the blood I found on the floor…yours…"

Gibbs offers his usual smirk, but it isn't an honest one. He hardly find anything to smirk about since the incident.

"Our focus isn't this case anymore." He tells his two Agents as Ziva decides to make an enterance. "You're late." He says to make things seem as normal as always. "Director Shepard's orders."

"We're just going to let a mad man go?"

"No, DiNozzo--we're not." He sighs in annoyance. "But--we're going to lay low…work this case and another."

"I'm not sure I'm cut out of that--"

"Well get used to it!" Gibbs throws a pencil at DiNozzo.

DiNozzo catches the pencil before it hits him in the face. Looking at his boss with a pair of wide-eyes, he begins to wonder if he had said something extremely wrong.

"What's the new case about, boss?" McGee jumps on the opportunity to be Gibbs' right-hand man.

Tony mimics McGee while rolling his eyes. Mcgee hears, but he doesn't bother stooping to Tony's level.

"Dead Marine."

"Where?"

"Inside his garage." He finds his gun and badge inside his desk. "McGee you're with me, Tony--you go with Ziva."

Ziva he grateful she does not need to ride with him, but when McGee and Tony stop searching for their weapons, she begins to worry something is wrong.

"GET MOVING!" Gibbs shouts at DiNozzo and McGee.

"Gladly boss…" Tony clears his throat. "…but don't we usually travel together in a crime scene?"

"Yeah--I was thinking the same thing…'course not counting Ducky and Palmer." McGee adds to better Tony's point.

Gibbs flinches a little at his terrible mistake. His focus isn't what it should be. He is jumping the gun--almost as if he can not tolerate being in such close range with Ziva for a certain amount of time.

"Let's go." He flashes all three of them a look.

"What about Ducky and Palmer?"

"Cell phone, DiNozzo." Gibbs waves his in front of his face.

As they all board the elevator, Gibbs makes sure he is beside McGee--leaving Ziva behind him with Tony.

* * *

Ziva considers herself safe. If she comes across distant and her charming partner Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo takes notice, a flirty reply will divert his mind to another subject. If she were to be noticed by her handsome partner Special Agent Timothy McGee, a reassure squeeze of the hand would reassure him that she was just fine.

Gibbs considers himself safe. No matter how he is feeling, it is covered with so many thick layers of caffeine, bourbon, sawdust, and grey that nobody would ever want to use their precious time sifting through it all--and getting to the core of his feelings. Then again, his deep, intimidating stare did wonders for scaring people away from him.

* * *

**Three Weeks Later**

No new evidence has shown up for the case and it bothers Tony because it doesn't seem to bother Gibbs. He knows his boss would want to kill the bastard who nearly killed him and one of his Agents.

"Gibbs is acting strange." Tony breaks the silence amongst his two teammates.

"How so?" McGee asks, but continues to look at his computer screen.

"I don't know--he seems withdrawn." He looks at Ziva who is lost in her own world while sitting at her desk. "…Maybe it's a coffee withdrawl or something."

"He hasn't not bought a cup of coffee." McGee can't see that being a reason.

"Maybe he switched to decaf?"

"Do you really think he would be taking everything so well if he had?"

"Good point, Probie." Tony's eyes linger on her. "Ziva--any idea?"

"No." She snaps out of her world just that quick.

"That was awfully fast."

"I like fast." She throws a coy look his way.

"Oh…" He wiggles his eyebrows at her. "Have we been a naughty girl, Agent David?"

Gibbs catches the end of the coversation--and knocks Tony so painfully hard in the back of his head.

"Don't ever let me hear you asking her or anyone else in this building a question like that again--you got it, DiNozzo?"

"I don't see how I couldn't." He says while rubbing the back of his head.

"That wasn't needed, Gibbs." Ziva voices her opinion. "I like it when we play."

McGee feels his nervous stomach kicking into second gear at her comment. Tony lets his mouth fall open as he waits for what Gibbs will do or say next.

"That sort of talk isn't allowed in a Federal building." He stands right where he is.

"What is allowed?" She is taking a stab at him--because it feels good to put him on the spot.

"Read the rule book."

"Already have." She informs him. "There's a lot to be said for those rules…it's a shame yours never made it to paper."

He takes a long sip of his scolding hot coffee as his blue eyes burn straight through hers.

McGee is near the forth level of nervousness when Tony chuckles nervously to break whatever moment two of his teammates are having.

"In my office, Officer David."

"Gladly, Agent Gibbs."

* * *

The emergency button is flicked and the elevator is still.

"You going to give me this sort of treatment whenever you see fit?" He is the first to say anything. "Because I could do without your sarcasm."

"Apparently anything of mine that doesn't get you off isn't worthy of your time."

"You didn't get me off!" He inhales with a shaky breath. "I…you…we…"

"I do not understand." Her sarcasm is still fresh.

"I'm guilty. I already know of my mistakes--and I'm trying my very best to try and find out just what it is you want from me." He is amazed he is finding all of these words to say completely at once. "What do you want me to do?"

"Me." She is taking a chance at a twisted joke. "Right here--in this elevator. Go ahead, do it Gibbs. Fuck me."

He feels the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"I can flip my phone. We can pretend like we're being watched again." She steps closer to him. "Your choice." She looks around his face, waiting for him to say something, but he can not find anything to say to stop her. "Now I know--you want to be alone, just us. You want the control. You want to have your way with me then march straight out of here as if you haven't done anything wrong. You Americans--all about your fucking perfect image!"

He hears her teasing him and taunting him none stop until he can no longer take it. Sharply turning around he flicks the emergency switch off and storms out of the elevator in need of a change in air.

He feels his insides buzzing.

He hasn't a clue on how to handle this.


	4. Advice

**Chapter 4: Advice**

_**4 Months Later**_

Gibbs sits parked outside in his friend's driveway. It's 12am on a Saturday. The second cup of coffee was originally intended for Ducky, but it got the best of him and he drank it. Now that it was finished, along with his original first cup, he had no other reason to hang around in a parked car. He needed help--and he couldn't think of anyone else to go to.

* * *

Ducky opens the door ordinarily as if it is broad daylight. "Jethro?" He takes a few steps closer.

"You shouldn't open your door quickly at this hour." Gibbs reminds his much older friend.

"Ah--have you come here to bust my chops?" His voice is joyful as he opens the door wider.

"No." Gibbs enters his house. "I need your help."

Ducky looks at him and notices instantly that something is indeed wrong. Hurriedly he shuts the door and offers his friend a cup of coffee.

* * *

The fire crackles in the elegant living room. Ducky's home is as spotless as his morgue. Quite an attraction for any invited or uninvited visitor.

Setting down a tray on top of his coffee table, he points to Gibbs' cup of coffee before grabbing his smaller cup of tea.

"Thanks Duck." Gibbs begins to drink the scolding liquid as if it is mild.

"Is this your first cup?" He asks after he gets over the fact that his friend had drank a large amount down in a matter of seconds.

"Third." He clears his throat a bit. "I bought two. One for me, one for you…couldn't help myself and I drank both."

Ducky takes a note to how chatty he seems to be, but decides that he will let him be the one to come around and address the reason he is here.

"I'll never know how you do it…" Ducky takes a slow sip of his tea. "If I had as many cups as you do a day I'd never catch any shut eye."

"Habit. I guess. Don't know." He shrugs, takes another large gulp, then sighs a little. "What's with the fire?"

"Thought it'd be nice to have one during a visit…" He eyes the ticking clock on the mantle, but doesn't address the time. "…Besides, you haven't been here in quite sometime."

"Busy. Work. Boat." He says quickly, downing the rest of his coffee and putting the cup back on the tray. "You could stop by sometime, too."

"As soon as you hire an interior decorator." He teases. "There's not very much attraction to the inside of your home, Jethro."

"There doesn't need to be. Just me there…" He remembers Shannon and Kelly instantly. "Something's are better left as they are."

"That puts a dim light to your future doesn't it?"

"Dunno. Never gave it much thought." He leans back on the sofa and inhales slowly before letting it out slowly. "I came here for a reason, Duck."

"Indeed." Ducky places his cup of tea down on the tray, but it is still rather full. "What seems to be on your mind, Jethro?"

"Ziva." He forces the name past his lips as if he hardly can say it anymore.

"What about Ziva?"

"Something happened on the Branson case…something that shouldn't have happened--and damn it, I swear if I knew how to turn back the hands of time I'd do everything in my power to do so." He leans forward on the couch again and looks at the fire snap and crackle. "I took something from her I wasn't supposed to take."

"You took something from her…what exactly do you mean, Jethro?" Ducky squints his eyes a bit as he tries to understand.

"Branson put a gun on me. He made me…" Gibbs' shame floats to the surface once again and his mind taunts him for being so mature in age yet incapable of just coming right out and telling his friend. "I had sex with Ziva."

The fire fizzles loudly and a log tumbles from the top of the wood stack onto the stone surrounding the floor before the fireplace. Ducky quickly gets up and fixes the piece of wood back in the blaze while poking a few other pieces to keep them completely steady.

Gibbs watches him, hoping that his decision to come to a friend was indeed the correct thing to do.

"Oh my…" Ducky takes a seat again, but this time on the same couch as Gibbs. "Poor Ziva." He hears a low groan from Gibbs and realizes then he shouldn't have said that as his first words. "What an embarrassing situation."

"It's more than embarrassing. She won't even talk to me." He wait's a moment. "She'll discuss cases with me in front of the team, but when we're alone she'll take stabs at me--and I can't do damn thing to stop her. I just let her take whatever it is…out on me."

Ducky can hardly find a way to grasp the reality that Gibbs is speaking in normal sentences instead of quick phrases--but when he sees the pain fresh in Gibbs' eyes he knows that he needs to help his friend deal with this suffering.

"I am not a psychologist, but if you are asking me why she is behaving this way, a number of things come to my mind." He pauses for a moment. "You have to understand, Jethro, that she is angry, upset, afraid…the usual emotions for anyone with feelings in regards to a situation like this."

"I do understand. I just…can't…" He shakes his head a little. "I can't find a way to talk to her. When I get her attention for a moment, everything comes out wrong. I can't speak correctly…and she just finds a inch where she can jump on me--and once there she digs her nails and teeth into me."

"Where have you tried to speak to her?"

"At her desk. In the elevator--once at my house. I've called her a few times--she won't answer."

"Oh my…"

"Please Duck, enough." Gibbs is growing annoyed as every minute passes. "Can you help me or not?"

"I am not sure there is a way to help you, Jethro nor do I know there is a way to help Ziva." He thinks thoughtfully to himself. "Is there anyway you and her are willing--"

"No. She doesn't want to talk about it--to anyone." He rubs the back of his head. "And I can't blame her." He catches Ducky's hurt. "No offense."

"I suppose--none taken." Ducky nods understandingly. "What about a letter?"

"Do I look like I'm capable of writing my feelings now on paper? That'd leave evidence--the last thing we need is someone finding it--especially that damn DiNozzo. He'll have a field day--blow it completely out of context and get her to resent me even more than she already does."

"I see you have mentioned feelings." He says and it makes Gibbs look towards the fire again. "A composed letter for her could be a chance to express options…such as her being transferred back to Mossad or perhaps another team…" Gibbs continues to look at the fire. "But you've mentioned feelings."

"Same difference."

"I'm afraid not, Jethro." He waits for his friend to look at him, but Gibbs refuses to make contact. "Do you have feelings for Ziva?"

"I didn't come here to talk about my feelings."

"No?" Ducky does not agree. "You certainly must be feeling something."

"What are you trying to get out of me, Duck?" He is turning angry now. "Don't try to pry me open because it'll never work."

"I'm not trying to pry you open, Jethro!" Ducky is growing upset. "I'm trying to find out where you stand on this matter. Since you started your story all you seem to be talking about is how Ziva is treating you and how she feels about you--but what about you? I need to know how you feel about what happened!"

"Shameful. Sick. Terrible. Gee, Duck--I don't know, what the hell do you think?!" He jumps up from the couch. "Never in my life have I failed myself and any member of my team to this degree. I never thought chasing a drug lord would have him turn into a part-time pervert!" His voice cracks. "Then it happened. I was there. She was there. He was there. If I didn't step up and I didn't…follow his…orders, he would have got to her after killing me."

"Did she understand the circumstances then?"

"She heard every word." He tries to find a calm, but can't seem to fully grasp it yet.

"Did you give her any warning?"

"I couldn't…I couldn't find the words. I just calling her name--trying to get to look me in the eyes." He looks to his feet. "She wouldn't look at me."

"Has she ever expressed feelings for you before?"

Gibbs' heads shoots straight up again. "Never."

"Positive?"

"Yeah--I guess. Sometimes she gets in my face, crowds my desk--you know, before what happened--but nothing more." He hates what he is about to say next, but he can not keep it to himself. "She's a replacement for Kate."

Ducky gives him a disapproving look. "I hope you didn't say that directly to her face."

"No. It's just between you and I. It's just a way for me to explain her position."

"You haven't any right to explain her position, Jethro." Ducky feels the urge to head-slap his disgruntled friend. "She has that right--no one else." He stands from his couch now. "Have you ever expressed any feelings for her?"

"I thought you weren't going to pry."

"It's a logical question, Jethro--and you're human enough to have feelings."

Through a tightened jaw, Gibbs speaks, "I've never made advances towards her. I've crowded her personal space, but I do that to everyone on my team--even you."

"Has she ever disapproved--flinched, or something of that nature?"

"Not before the incident. Now, every so often--she's gotten better at not doing that so much now, though." He begins to feel uncomfortable about the topic at hand, but knows Ducky is not trying to get details to make comments, but to help him instead.

"And…how does that make you feel?"

"Terrible. I sometimes find a moment to apologize. I can't--seem to not do it Duck. It's a part of who I am--I want information or I want to listen intently, I step closer to the person speaking. I don't mean it as an advance…but she thinks I'm about to take her right there."

"You do not know what she is thinking."

"I'd like to." His voice changes levels a bit. "I'd like to fix this."

"This isn't a broken object that can be fixed with super-glue or a trip to the hardware store, Jethro. There is something else driving Ziva to react the way that she does. She flinches when you invade her space, depending on the day or the time of day, and then you two are alone she verbally takes her anger out on you."

"Confused?"

"Sexually frustrated."

"The only way to undo that is to become sexual--and I can't do that without knowing that she is better."

"So then you have thought sexually about her?" Gibbs' faces turns a slight shade of red--such an unusual color on him. "There's really no use in trying to take that back, Jethro. You said it--and I heard it."

"Not since what happened." He sighs. "How can you not? I try to stop myself, but I can't--" His face twists a little.

"It's human nature, Jethro. The only decent thing is to force them out of your mind which I have no doubt you do successfully, but take comfort in knowing that there seems to be an area of care, if not devotion, towards Ziva under the reality of the act that took place and the memories that are finding a way to invade your thoughts."

"I don't love Ziva."

"No?"

"I can't love Ziva." He changes.

"Because of what happened or because you've failed several marriage since the death of Shannon and Kelly?"

"2:30am. Better go."

"You're running away." Ducky calls and Gibbs stops dead in his tracks, not liking the idea that he is being seen as a quitter. "If you want my advice I suggest you continue to speak to me, you settle here for some sleep, and then you leave fresh in the later morning."

Gibbs turns around. "I wanted your advice since I got here!"

"You can't expect to receive advice that quickly without having me know all of this newfound information." Ducky explains.

"You found it." Gibbs mumbles.

"You gave it away." He says lightly to his friend who has come back into his living room.

"What'll I do?" Gibbs asks after he takes a seat on his couch.

"Perhaps Ziva feels you only want her only for something physical. Generally speaking two people get to know one another before they move on to different stages of their relationship--"

"Duck--I know that." Gibbs wonders if Ducky has forgot he took is a gentleman.

"Stop talking and listen--I'm giving the advice." Annoyance can be heard in Ducky's voice. "Find time outside of work to speak with her face to face. Calling shows her that you are holding back because you are unsure of how she might take it."

"She's a trained assassin who has hardly perfected her ability as an NCIS investigator--I hold back so she won't shoot me dead."

"It doesn't matter Jethro--you are giving her the impression that you are, in a way, avoiding her." Gibbs finds the strength to nod. "Now--when you arrive at her apartment, greet her as usual and begin conversation about anything unrelated to work and unrelated to what has happened."

"Don't you think she'll become angry that I'm acting as if everything is back to normal?"

"My gut tells me that she is looking for another reason to have any kind of relationship with you. She wants assurance as your Agent, safety as your teammate, care as your friend, and…well, if love resides somewhere inside Ziva, which I think it does, she wants to find the love in you for a mate."

"And you're 'just' a medical examiner?"

"Give me time, I might decide on that degree I've had my eye on for quite sometime." A touch of glee sprinkles Ducky's eyes. "So you will take my advice?"

"It's the only advice I've gotten--only advice I'll get. No one is to know about this, Duck--not even the Director." His face and tone is serious.

"I won't say a word, but I think you should tell Ziva--the quicker you can, that you have spoken to me. She very well would have been welcome as a visitor tonight, but I understand your reason for coming alone." He picks up his tray. "And remember to tell her that I'm always available if she needs something."

"Thanks Duck." Gibbs digs in his pocket for his keys.

"I think it's best you stay here, Jethro. It's late--you're already here and it's warm. I'd over you one of the upstairs bedrooms, but my gut tells me you're quite comfortable right here in the living room."

"Read my mine. Where's a pillow?"

"Check the closet near the front door--" Ducky sees tracks of mud in front of him as he walks with the tray. "And for god sakes--Jethro--take those shoes off. You've tracked mud all over the place."

"Clean it up in the morning. Promise." Gibbs says through a muffled voice as pillows and blankets cover the majority of his face.

Ducky shakes his head as he continues to walk into his kitchen.


	5. Quitting

**Chapter 5: Quitting**

The elevator doors open and the ever-so-suave Anthony DiNozzo emerges from them. His sunglasses cover his attractive eyes, but his beaming smile is uncovered for the whole world to see--if they want to look, of course.

He puts down his things and takes notice to Ziva who has her feet propped up on her desk.

"What the hell happened to you?" He gives a disgusted face when he sees the blood and bandages on her feet.

"I got up early and I decided to relax."

"Yeah--by what? Beating the hell out of something or someone?" He comes over and puts his face directly at level with her feet. "How'd you manage to not leave any blood behind you?" He says once he is able to look at her floor beneath his feet.

"This isn't my blood." She gives him a look that makes him return to his desk. "What are you doing here on Saturday anyway?"

"Gibbs called me…he call you?" Tony grows worried that he might be in trouble.

"Perhaps." She hardly can say the word.

"Then what are you doing here?" He is getting annoyed with whatever attitude she has that he can not find a way to place.

"He came by my apartment."

"Gibbs--came by, your apartment?" He cracks a silly smile. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

It was at that moment that Ziva knew she was correct in refusing to speak to anyone on the team about what had happened. How would she ever get any of them to understand what happened--what 'their' boss did to her? They would laugh--get angry--treat her as if she were from another planet entirely.

"Uh--hello?" He waves his hands in front of her face.

"Get out of my face, Tony." Her tone is serious, but hardly rude.

"I'd like to live for the rest of the day as well as many, many, many more years from now so I'll listen to you." He takes his eat quickly, then notices Gibbs come in. "Hey Boss!"

"DiNozzo." He address his already hyper senior Agent.

Ziva continues to undo the bandages on her feet while she purposely ignores Gibbs' presence.

"Where's McGee?" He asks her first, but she does not answer so he turns his attention to Tony.

"No clue, boss." Tony stands from his chair. "You know it's very disrespectful that he doesn't call to tell us he won't be in on time--"

"Zip it, DiNozzo." Gibbs is not in the mood to hear Tony trying to suck up.

"Right, boss." Tony walks to stand in front of Gibbs' desk. "What are we in for?"

"Meeting." Gibbs can hardly speak this morning. He needed to lay off the bourbon--he consumed more than usual and it had become a pattern for several nights.

"Aw…." Tony is completely disappointed. "What's this one about--Fire safety?"

"Sexual Harassment." Ziva says.

Tony groans as he finds his desk and flops down in his chair.

"I really wish I was tired--so I could sleep through the entire thing."

McGee appears now. He looks rushed and his hair wet.

"Sorry I'm late boss, I--"

"Doesn't matter. No case. Sexual Harassment."

"Okay boss, but I--"

"Don't worry about it, McGee!" He snaps. "Just relax until the Director calls."

McGee shrugs to himself and takes a seat at his desk. He looks to Ziva and realizes what she is doing--it looks painful though it hardly is.

In seconds the phone rings and Gibbs notifies his team.

* * *

**Three Days Later**

McGee feels his foot twist right before he crashes to the ground. He calls for Tony who is directly at his heels.

"Stay there, McTripper!" Tony shouts as he blazes past McGee and continues the hot pursuit on the criminal.

Ziva, who is behind Tony, stops quickly to check on McGee.

"I'm fine, go!" He yells to her.

* * *

McGee settles his foot on top of his desk and tries to rest his throbbing ankle on a small pillow Tony had in one of his desk drawers. Tony walks over and flicks it with his fingers causing McGee to gasp in pain.

"It's okay, breathe Probie." Tony pats him hard on his head.

"Stop!" McGee takes a shove at Tony while still sitting.

"Leave him alone, Tony." Ziva looks up from her work. "You have a report to correct, no?"

"Maybe." Tony begins to wonder how she might know that. "Are you ordering me to do it?"

"What if I am?"

He cracks a small and chuckles. "Uh--I wouldn't care. You're not the boss."

"Right." She goes back to her work; no intention of bickering with him.

"That's it?" He tries to get her going, but she does not pay him any attention.

* * *

Ziva forces her key into the keyhole of her apartment. She scolds the landlord for forgetting to replace the lights in the hallway, but she knows it will hardly do any good. She does know that if something is not done about it sooner, she will be forced to kick someone's ass.

Gibbs sits in his car, watching the lights go inside her apartment through her window. Taking a look at the dashboard he reads the time and knows he has no choice, but to head up to her apartment now. If he waits any longer, she might find sleep.

* * *

The microwaveable pizza she eats tastes cheap and standard. There is no flare whatever-so-ever in the sauce, but it fills her stomach.

When she hears a knock on her door, she grabs her gun and begins to walk slowly to the door. When she opens it, she aims the gun--her finger threatening to fire.

"You gonna shoot me?"

"I might." She is not smiling as she keeps the gun steady aimed at Gibbs' face. "What do you want?"

"To talk."

"Phone?"

"Tried that. No luck." He answers her, but he knows she has been screening her incoming calls. "Gonna let me in?"

"Done that."

He inhales and exhales slowly.

"You aren't making this very easy…" He says more to himself than to her.

"Did you think I was easy?"

"Christ--you going to take every fucking thing I say and turn it in the other direction?" He slams his fist against her door and forces it completely open. "Put that damn gun away. You aren't gonna shoot me." He goes in for a tactic, twists the gun out of her grasp, and hands it to her. "If you were gonna shoot me I wouldn't have been able to do that."

Ziva drop kicks him and thrusts her knife to his throat as he lay in between her apartment and the hallway.

"Fresh meat." She holds the blade closer.

"Do it." He urges her. "It'd divert my pain."

Her eyes flicker between the tip of the blade that threatens to cut his skin and his eyes. Slowly, she backs away, taking her knife with her.

Gibbs stays on the ground for a minute, then decides it is safe to get up. Once he is standing, he shuts her apartment door and finds her in her kitchen.

"I see you enough, don't you think?" She keeps her back to him as she fishes for something more to drink in her refrigerator.

"I could say the same thing." His attitude as bad as hers.

"But you don't--why?" She looks to him now as she uncaps her water bottle.

"Have you really given me a chance to speak?"

"I was not aware you knew how to do that."

"Bullshit." He takes one step closer to her, but there is still quite a distance between them. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. You weren't the only one in there that was forced against their will."

"I didn't hear you protest."

"Like hell! He threatened to kill me and then get to you--before he eventually killed you. What the fuck would you rather have had me do--let him fuck you?!"

"So it was a form of territory." She can hardly feel for him. "I would have rather chose."

"Between a fucking mad man or your partner? Don't push out lies, Ziva."

" What are you doing here, Gibbs?" She smashes her water bottle on top of the counter near the sink.

"I want to talk to you."

"What is it that we are doing?"

"ARGUING!" He slams his fist on her kitchen table. "I didn't fucking come here to scream my fucking head off!"

"…And what are you doing now?" She is extremely calm and it grates his nerves. "Gibbs?"

"Leave." He finally says what he wanted to be his last resort. "Pack your shit and leave."

"You are firing me? The Director has that power only."

"Then get your ass to Shepard's office and tell her you quit." He tries to see any means of hurt flicker in her eyes, but he sees nothing--complete blankness. "Go on. Get out of here! Get the fuck off my team. Go!"

"First thing in the morning." Her appearance the same, though her insides begin to loose control in several ways. "Suppose she refuses?"

"She won't refuse. I'll see to it that she doesn't." He assures her.

"Bye. Gibbs."

He turns from her without uttering a single word. She stands in her silent kitchen and hears her apartment door slam completely shut. Outside in the hallway, Gibbs hopes he will hear her call for him to come back--but he hears nothing; from the hallway straight to his car he is alone with his thoughts.

* * *

McGee sits with his arms on his desk and his head on top of them. He notices Tony's entrance, but can not find the words to say good morning to him.

"You look like hell, McGeek." Tony puts away his weapon and his badge. He looks at McGee again and sees he is not making a single move to say anything back to him. "Are you functioning in reality or virtual reality, Elf Lord?"

"Ziva's gone."

"Ziva's gone?" Tony turns his head and takes notice to her empty desk. As looks back to McGee, his face is stricken with confusion. "Where'd she go?"

"Home."

"Oh--she'll be back--"

"Back home…Tony." McGee clarifies. "She quit."

A certain sadness creeps into Tony's face. It is the same that fills McGee's slightly puffy cheeks.

"Gibbs know about this?"

McGee does not answer because he sees Gibbs before Tony does.

"Course I know, DiNozzo." He says as he sees Ziva exiting the Director's office with a box in her hand. As she walks down the stairs, he never takes his eyes off of her.

"Bye McGee. Tony." She offers them a quick wave.

McGee pouts as he waves slowly at her. Tony puts his hands up and quickly puts it down as a small pout forms at his face.

The both of them want an explination, but she does not offer one--and just like that she enters the elevator and disappears.

Just then, Gibbs slams a ton of folders on Tony's desk. "Find a replacement."

"That quick, boss?" Tony finds this uncanny.

"Yeah. Do it now, DiNozzo! McGee, help him."

McGee wheels his chair over to Tony's desk and begins to do what he was told to do. Tony does not react as quickly for the wheels in his head have begun to turn.

He will find out the reason why if it is the last thing he does.


	6. Visitations

**Chapter 6: Visitations**

It is Friday night. The team has broken apart for the remainder of the day and weekend.

* * *

A hand-tool is thrown on a spare piece of wood. Gibbs has completely run out of bourbon--every bottle he had in stock has been depressingly consumed.

Footsteps over his head still his hands. He sighs loudly as he wonders to whom they belong to. Stepping away from his boat, he keeps his eyes to his staircase until he sees Ducky's body emerge through the door way.

"Jethro!" Ducky is delighted.

"Duck." Gibbs steps over to his boat again and begins to feel the grain with his hand.

"Thought I'd find you here." Ducky's bowtie is undown and his trench coat is now in his hand. "My how the wind is howling." Gibbs takes notice to his tousled hair and grins to himself. "Hard at work I presume?"

"Sounds 'bout right." Gibbs wavers the idea before attacking his boat with sand paper. "Why'd you drop by?"

"Can't an old friend pop in to say hello every now and again?" Ducky is hopeful, but Gibbs' serious stare makes him cave. "Ah--well, if you must know, I've come for an update."

"Update?"

"Yes--about Ziva and yourself."

"She quit." He catches Ducky's surprise. "You didn't know?"

"No, I knew--I just figured by the time I got here you would have told me something different! For god-sakes Jethro, what the hell were you thinking?"

"Ah Duck…" He tries to block out his dear friend's voice.

"You drop by my home, sit by my fire, drop a literal bomb on me, and then ask for my advice--what for? You let her leave."

"I told her to." He finds nothing wrong with what he just said.

"You told her to leave?" Ducky can not take much more of this.

"There wasn't anything else left for me to do. She refused to sit down and speak with me."

"Oh for god-sakes, knowing you--you went about it the wrong way."

"Wrong way?" Gibbs feels a little prick.

"Yes--the wrong way. Haven't you any idea what you are doing anymore?"

"Aw Duck…" He storms away from the boat and turns a small jar full of bolts and screws over while fishing for bourbon he already knows he does not have. "I don't need this shit."

Ducky looks at his anxious friend. "May I--"

"No, you 'may' not." He snaps; not allowing Ducky to finish.

"Damn it, Jethro!" Ducky walks directly over to Gibbs and picks up an empty bottle of bourbon. "MAY I…remind you that this was once a luxury, not a necessity!"

"Are you callin' me a drunk?!" He becomes insanely defensive.

"Do yourself a favor--" He slams the empty bottle down and it knocks over four others. "Do not restock!"

Without another word, he flees Gibbs' basement.

* * *

The opening theme to a classic film gently fills the ripe air inside of Tony's apartment. Empty cartons of Chinese liter his living room like an abandoned alleyway.

A beeping noise interrupts his sloppy romp--in which he unusually is having alone. Picking up his cell phone, he hit's the send button and speaks. After a few seconds of his tiring mantra, he hangs up--but the beeping continues.

Forcing himself off his couch, a few baby corn fall from his chest, but the sauce it soaked in hours before have left stains on his shirt.

"ALRIGHT ALREADY!!!" He roars inside his empty, yet cluttered apartment. "Jesus--what is that?!" He grabs at his throbbing head. The few beers he had at the bar never seemed to wreck havoc on his head years ago.

Finally stopping in front of his computer, he hit's a key. Peering closely at the screen, he soon feels his nose brush against the glass. "Am I going blind?" He slightly worries before he rubs his eyes with both of his hands. "Argh--" He blinks a few times and stares at the computer screen again. "Ah--that's better…" He grabs his mouse. "Ahhh…ha…" He finds a comfortable spot in the chair he uses for a desk chair.

Shalom Tony,

Have you settled down yet? Have you been nice to McGee? The weather here is fair.

-Ziva

He no longer feels the usual laziness after waking from an unscheduled sleep. His eyes flicker over her email several times--each time it boggles his mind more than the last.

* * *

Her heels take her directly in front of him. He inhales her familiar scent, but feels her presence is more of another disruption rather than a delightful pleasure.

"You are keeping things from me, Jethro."

"I'd keep my coffee away from you, Jen." He never stops sanding his boat to look at her.

"How many more of these are scheduled to build?"

"I call 'em as I see 'em."

"Right--well you better think of ways to fulfill whatever time you have coming."

"'Cuse me?" He looks at her now.

"It never quite added up--the sudden request for permanent leave--until I received a phone call from Tony earlier this evening." She looks in his eyes. "Fingerprints on a condom wrapper?"

"It's a tactic I'm known to have used before." He says it so flippantly.

"With whom, is the real question, Jethro."

"Well Jen, I haven't got a real answer for ya."

"It was Ziva, wasn't it?"

"Now--how does that sound?" He covers the truth with his famous grin. "As much as you'd like to find another reason to badger me, you're sadly mistaken."

"Why did she quit?" She is not buying it.

"She is a Liaison Officer. She was never one of our own." Somewhere deep inside he feels disgust with even saying what he just did. "She wanted out--to go back home."

She stalks around him like he is her prey. As she rotates her footsteps and heads in the other direction to circle him counter-clockwise, a second time for good measure, she contemplates what to say.

"Come to my office. Come to my home. I gotta tell ya Jen, you keep this up--people might talk."

"I want you to remember one thing, Jethro--" She traps him against his boat with only her icy stare. "I will find out the truth as for why Ziva left."

"Is that a threat?" His smirk still plastered on his face.

"It is." She assures him, then turns to climb his stairs and leave.

After a few minutes of intense pressure, Gibbs finds a nearby hammer and begins to beat against the connected pieces of wood.

After ten minutes, another wooden structure that was well on its way to becoming a craftsman boat lies broken on the concrete floor.

Sinking down to the wreckage, tears form in his eyes.

* * *

It is Monday morning. The air is crisp. Special Agent Timothy McGee tries to figure out why his childish partner is hovering aimlessly in and around his desk.

"What do you want, Tony?" McGee swats at him. "Get away!"

"Don't swat at me like I'm some sort of creepy, crawly bug-like…vermin!"

"A vermin is a bug."

"Nobody likes a genius, Probie. Nobody." Tony fixes his tie and checks his surroundings. "I have a proposition for my little McFlower on this particular morning."

"What makes you think I'd take any consideration, what-so-ever, on helping you?"

"Because I'm DiNozzo. Anthony DiNozzo." He runs his hand through his hair. "The Prince of Thieves…the Gangster of Love…a Sharp Shooter--"

"Gibbs is the sniper."

"Nobody likes a know-it-all, Probie. Nobody." Tony bears his teeth at the younger Agent slightly.

"Get away from my desk. Go back to your own." McGee swats at him some more and he accidentally smacks Tony in the face.

"If you've misplaced so much as an eyebrow hair on my face…I'll kick your ass." DiNozzo stalks back to his desk, grabs his chair, and drags it back to McGee's desk. "Move over, McGeek."

"Come on To--"

"Listen!" Tony puts his arm on the back of McGee's chair. "I want to tell you something." He checks around his shoulders and then looks back at McGee. "Got an email from Ziva--" McGee tries to interrupt. "SHH!!!!!!" He looks around their surroundings again. "I got an email…last night…from Ziva…she seems distant."

"She's in another country, Tony."

Tony head-smacks McGee. "I know that, Probie--but obviously she has enough time to write me an email."

"Knowing you, you wrote her one first."

"That's besides the point!" Tony grits his teeth. "I'm trying to figure out why on earth she quit."

"It isn't any of your business…" McGee grows small when he sees Tony staring him down. "…It is your business?"

"Of course it's my business--everything is, but that's besides the point! It's our business…she was a part of our team don't you feel that her presence is missing?"

"I wish your presence was missing…" McGee murmurs under his breath and backspaces a letter. Tony hears this and head slaps McGee again. "Ow! Alright--Gees. So I miss her…sometimes…but she wasn't Kate."

"Aw, now that's just cold." Tony feels bitter even though he was not the one to say it. "I thought you liked Ziva."

"I did--I do…but Tony she isn't here anymore. There's no way to get her back…she's gone. She quit…she didn't want to be a part of our team anymore…" He pauses a moment. "Kate never had that option."

"Whatever!" Tony decides he has heard enough. "I need you to be my personal Probie."

"And…what have I been to you since I started working here?"

"No--I need you to brush away the footprints…pick up the pebble trail…do my dirty laundry--"

"No!"

"Okay--okay, not the laundry--but I need you to do what you do best."

"I will not clean your computer to conceal whatever naughty neighbor websites you have been on."

"I need you to cover any incoming emails and/or video chats from Ziva that might take place on my computer. I also need for you to erase any traces of our communications on my home computer…and it wouldn't hurt if you added my cell phone…to the whole…package." He finishes with a 100-watt smile.

"Why would I cover communication between you and Ziva?"

The elevator dings and they notice Gibbs walking in as he usually does.

"Because of him…"

They both look directly at Gibbs. He is stopped by a fellow Agent which is positively odd.

"Are you crazy? I'm not working against Gibbs!" McGee reacts like the kind person he is.

"It isn't working against Gibbs--it's practical. Ziva just up and left--and the boss man is shootin' the breeze as if it isn't a big deal?"

"I've got to admit…you do have a point." Mcgee watches their boss. "Maybe it's the Branson case that's got him occupied?"

"We're all on the Branson case." Tony reminds him. "And if you think about it, he's a part of our case."

"So now our boss--our leader--is under investigation by us?"

"No--but if we don't start finding answers as to why his fingerprints were on the outside of a condom wrapper, that'll be the only thing about Gibbs that will gnaw at our insides." Tony looks seriously at McGee. "Everything about him more or less clicks--"

"You don't know that, Tony." McGee is growing nervous as the clock ticks.

"That seems to be a in itself--don't you think?" He looks worriedly at McGee. "None of us know…"

"Find a replacement?" Gibbs interferes in their small office get-together.

"You drop a stack of applications on my desk featuring some of the best highly recommended beautiful…beautiful…BEAUTIFUL…female Agents?" He sucks in hair through his teeth. "I'm gonna need more than one night to come up with one, boss."

"That's why I had Mcgee help." Gibbs tastes his coffee.

"Everyone I found suitable, he did not."

Tony glares at McGee, but pushes himself away from his desk and wheels himself and his chair back to his computer desk.

McGee catches a serious look behind that glare and slightly shakes his head to inform Tony he understands.

Gibbs finds his desk without knowing of their communication exchange.


	7. Complex

**Chapter 7: Complex**

The weather is fair in Tel Aviv. The winter season seldom falls below fifty degrees.

* * *

Ziva David stands in front of her father's desk waiting for him to speak. She hates being there--in front of a man who has used her in the past. A man who will continue to use her now and in the future.

"Ziva, find a seat." He orders her gruffly more than speaking kindly to her. Once she finds one, he motions for her bring it closer to his desk. After doing so, he puts his pen down. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Returning for duty."

"Why?" It is a simple question, but he already knows she does not have a simple answer. "Have you not adjusted to life in America?"

"It isn't that." She grows tense, but does not continue.

Eli David stares at his last living child and tries to find why her physical state is contrived.

"I haven't a place for you, Ziva." He chooses to find his personal vengeance on a few Americans deep within him before continuing. "You were sent to help your brother and instead you let an American take his life."

"Special Agents Gibbs was unarmed."

"So I've been told…so I've been told…" He believes it to be a lie, but has not developed enough information to prove it. "He is was your brother."

"Half-brother!" She barks.

"IT DOES NOT MATTER!" He slams his hand down on the stack of papers that riddle his desk. "Family is family!"

"I know that!" She raises her voice again. "But the past is the past, no?" She inhales sharply. "There is no way to get him back."

"I am convinced that even with a way of doing so you would fail me…again." His eyes grow darker and bitter. There is not even a single spec of emotion in his eyes. "You've been damaged, Ziva."

"How so?" She finds this to be an error in judgment, but she lacks the power to tell him differently.

"The rules and regulations of an investigator have clouded your ability as a Mossad Agent."

"I am very much the person I was." She finds that to be a lie, but she is without any other choice now that she no longer serves any purposes for NCIS.

"…But you've meddled with the Americans." He catches a quick flash of surprise at what he said, but does not think anything of it. "You've worked with them, cared for them--"

Her mind quickly responds when she feels her father becoming dangerously close to an area she never wants to address to him, or anyone.

"I thought we were friends of the Americans."

"What they've done to me has nothing to do with our agreement and respectful interactions."

"So are you telling me I am not allowed to come back?" She is tired of her father saying things that hold no water now that she is here, seating completely in front of him, wanting back in.

"I'd have to test you, Ziva. Make sure you're suitable for a few operations." He explains. "Perhaps you should lay low for a while--visit old friends."

"Are you guaranteeing me?"

"I am." He says as she stands, "But my word isn't as honest as it once was. You know this."

She nods. Inside she understands though she refuses to honestly accept it. Her father is a dirty man and no matter how wicked he can and will be, she refuses to detach herself from him entirely.

* * *

Tony enters the Director's office and fixes his tie. His throat is dry and suddenly the air around him feels stuffy.

"Take a seat, Agent DiNozzo." She is in front of him before he can fully settle himself. "I've called you in my office today in hopes you understand how I feel about you as an Agent."

"Uh…" He clears his throat. "With all due respect Director, I can't recall a moment where we have gotten to know one another."

"Judging from the stories I've heard, I rather like the fact we haven't." She offers him a small grin. "Even so, are you willing to assist me?"

"Do I have a choice?" His eyes twinkle with fear and curiosity.

"No." She whips around and heads to her desk. Once there she grabs a single paper off her desk and takes a look at it. "Branson case, sound familiar?"

"Certainly." He feels the heat from under his collar rising. "We're working on that…as well as several others." He waits for her to continue speaking, but she chooses not to. "Haven't gotten much of a lead on the case--drug lords…you know how they are--they just up and leave whenever they've made a drop."

She grins at his nervousness; a character trait he seldom shows.

"If you let me get back to work, maybe I'll be able to--"

"I know about the fingerprints, Agent DiNozzo." She puts the sheet of paper down. "I know they belong to Gibbs." She sees his Adam's apple bob. "Did you really think Abby's findings would drift completely over my head?"

"Of course not, Director." He clears his throat. "What are you asking me to do?"

"Keep tabs on Gibbs. You're the only Agent with enough skill to go without being noticed."

"Gibbs is a sniper. He's the one with enough skills." He reminds her.

"Right, but Gibbs is the man of the hour." She growing with fatigue. "If he is withholding information about the Branson case we will never get it out of him."

"Maybe there's a reason for that." Tony feels his defense for Gibbs kicking in though the day before he was set to work against him.

"And there's a damn reason Officer David quit!" She yells at him. "It wasn't a question, Agent DiNozzo. You will follow Gibbs and whatever you find, you will report back to me." She feels his need to protest. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Director." He finds it hard to swallow. As he gets up, he hears her call his name. "Yeah, Director?"

"Agent McGee isn't to know about this." She catches his nod though the back of his head is facing her. "Neither is the rest of the Team. This is strictly between you and I."

He nods a final time before he forces himself out of her office. As he leans against the closed door, he catches her secretary offering him an apologetic smile. He smiles quickly back at her before closing his eyes and resting the back of his head against the door.

* * *

After her email has been opened, she reads Tony's witty reply.

_Hiya Zee-vah,_

_Me--Nice to Probie? I'm not sure I'll ever have a reason to do that. Naturally I haven't gotten married, but if you are offering…_

_-Tony_

* * *

Gibbs sits at the foot of his basement steps. Without the large wooden structure smack dab in the middle of his basement, he is able to take in how large it feels. Yet it does not matter because its absence makes his life more empty than it usually is.

A bottle of bourbon is clutched between his tight grip. With every swig of the dark liquor he hears Ducky's voice in his dead. It haunts him as if no matter where Ducky is, he knows exactly what he is doing--and why.

* * *

The elevator makes its usual sound and McGee floats past a few Agents and ends up landing directly in his chair--as it has been pushed in behind him.

"Get to it, Probie." Tony instructs.

"I'll need to be at your desk for me to do that, Tony."

"Easy Probie, I've already switched our computers." He gives him a sly look.

"You came to work earlier?" He finds that extremely hard to believe.

"I stopped by after midnight--I do my best work at night." He polishes his nails.

"I'm sure you'll be eating your words once Gibbs finds out what we are doing and then eventually snags the security cameras."

"A buddy of mine owed me a favor--I had them rigged for a few minutes. Just enough time for me to construct the switch-off."

"I'm impressed. You have tech-y friends."

"Everyone makes mistakes, McGeek. Everyone." He pushes Mcgee further under his desk. "But enough already--come on!!"

"Okay, okay!" McGee hardly can stand the pressure. "What exactly am I supposed to clean?"

"Email--she sent me another one, but don't delete it! I haven't gotten a chance to read what it says." He drops his address on his keyboard. "My original outgoing email and her reply are on my computer at my apartment."

"I'm going to have to go to your apartment?" McGee asks as he continues to work.

"What's wrong with my apartment?" Tony is slightly offended by that. "Oh right--don't come by there after nine. I tend to morph into an entertainer if you know what--"

"I know what you mean!" McGee saves himself from any blunt detail Tony planned to give him. "I'll be there at eight. It shouldn't take me long."

"Right on McFingers." He left his partners side and took a seat at his own desk. "I'd hurry up if I were you."

"Quit pushing me, Tony!" McGee is slowly breaking into a sweat. Something he never does first thing after he gets to work.

"I'm trying to save your ass incase our ever-so-NOT-cheerful boss, flies through those metal doors!" Tony finds the hitch in his voice to be alarming. "How much more time?"

"Just a few minutes--maybe our networks slow."

"Ah!!!!" Tony grabs his head. "Enough with the tech talk McGee, you're killing me. Just hurry and finish!"

McGee bites his lip though he wants to blast Tony to pieces. Clicking around with his mouse, he uses his other hand to open his desk drawer. Opening it he finds an external drive and hooks it to the computer via USB.

"What are you doing?" Tony asks urgently as he rips his eyes away from the elevator. "HELLO, PROBIE!!!"

"I thought you said for me to stop talking."

"AH!" He throws a pencil at McGee, but he dodges it. "Answer my question!"

"I'm creating the backup on an external drive."

Tony nods as he looks back towards the elevator doors. From upstairs, Director Shepard can see the two Agents behaving frantically. An eyebrow lifts when she sees McGee toss Tony the small external drive. She will discover what it is about.

* * *

Eli David greets his daughter for the second time since her return. She has not been back home for more than five days.

"You have decided." She says matter-of-factly once she sees the look in her father's eyes.

"You will first go through a week's evaluation."

"If you are again placing me as an Liaison Officer--"

"You will return as Metsada." He sees a slight doubt flash across her face. "Your evaluation is mandatory." He finds his seat at his desk.

She stands there trying to take the news she was just given--but realizes she has to stop trying and she must take it. This is what she is told to do and she will do it…

Even if it means completely forgetting her could-be family at NCIS for the rest of her life.

* * *

Car keys are thrown on the coffee table. Tony takes his gun from his hostler and settles it on top of his television. He knows it is not a safe place, but it is the only large object that is near him.

Quickly turning his computer on, he stuffs the external drive into the USB port on his computer tower he never knew he had. Once he searches the web quickly for instructions on how to open an external file, he begins to read Ziva's email.

_Shalom Tony,_

_I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth…unless of course I was the only woman left on earth. That way we would be forced to be with one another. I think that is the only proper way we could ever be together._

_I would cherish McGee's presence. Your acceptance would mean so much to him._

_-Ziva_

The smile that covers his face vanishes in seconds. There is a certain sadness to his short-term partner that he can not seem to place. And as if on cue, another email reaches his inbox--from Ziva.

_Goodbye Tony,_

_I have been requested for duty. Not sure when…or if I will be back. I am afraid our emails can no longer continue from this point on. Give McGee my best._

_-Ziva_

The lump that forms in his throat does not want to disappear. When he hears a knock on his door, he refuses to answer it. When he hears McGee calling his name and banging loudly on his door, he forces himself out of the care.

"Could it have taken you any longer?" McGee says to him without a proper hello.

"I was preoccupied…" Tony's voice is low.

"Well let me in, will ya?" McGee pushes inside of Tony's apartment. "The hallway smells terrible."

"Not my fault." His voice inaudible.

McGee looks strangely at him once he sees his face. "What's with your, Tony? You want me here to clear your computer, don't you?"

"Ziva's in trouble."

McGee's expressions changes instantly. "What's happened?"

"Thought you didn't care, McGee." Tony says sarcastically before he slams his apartment door. "Thought Ziva wasn't like Kate."

"Damn it Tony, what's happened to her?" McGee is beginning to feel a slight pain inside.

"Read the email." Tony points directly to his computer screen.

McGee takes a deep breath before obeying.

Tony stands in his place; a million things begin to crowd his mind at once. He shakes his head slightly and wonders how on earth he managed to connect himself to so many problems that were happening all at once.

"We've got to tell Gibbs!" McGee breaks his train of thought.

"Easy there, McGee." Tony's voice is gentle. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Why?" McGee feels his patience slipping away. "Come on, Gibbs ought to know."

Tony becomes angry at the second mention of their boss's name. "Don't you think he already knows?!" He yells at McGee. "Ziva heading back into the lion's den could never amount to anything good. Gibbs knew this."

"…And he let her go anyway…" McGee is starting to see the big picture. "Why'd he just let her leave?"

"I don't know." Tony scrubs at his face with his hands. "Clear the computer--don't bother rushing. I'll order us a pizza."

McGee can not find the words to say anything else, so he gets to work.


	8. Distress

**Author's Note**: Hey guys, whoa--what a stack of wonderful reviews. I never imagined this would attract a cluster of fans, but I'm glad that it has. I hope I can continue to keep this fic interesting. Thank you all very much for taking the time to write reviews. I read every single one of them and I do take them into consideration, always. Again, I'm always open for any suggestions. Lastly, Enjoy the chapter and I'll get working on the next as soon as I possibly can. -Geek.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Distress**

The Marine does not care for the man that sits across the hardened table. His sympathy and empathy have sadly drifted away--made their way across the great lakes and sunk into the deep ocean blue. And he can sense this loss, but he really couldn't give a fuck.

"I WANT ANSWERS!" He smacks the table violently.

"I told you I don't know anything!" The harkened man that sits across from him is near a breaking point--what ever it may be. "I know you're gray enough to be on the same page as my grandmother, but you hardly seem deaf."

The smart-mouth suspect sat back with a satisfied grin. Only a second ago he looked as if he were shaking in his boots. The personalities of criminals is endless.

"You'll never find me guilty of anything, Agent Gibbs." He huffs. "Do I look like a criminal?"

"You don't have to look like one in order to be one." His voice is unnervingly calm. "And never say never."

"I'll say just what the fuck I want!"

Gibbs purses his smooth lips and glares at the younger man.

* * *

McGee views the interrogation from the two-way mirror. His tan jacket nearly matches the one his boss is sporting on this particular Monday afternoon.

He watches Gibbs, but this time he watches for unusual signs rather than notes to mentally file when it comes to conducting an interrogation. Yes, today his duties are split. His job is to work with the boss and work against the boss. A task that has slowly started to make him more nervous than he ever was before.

He turns around when he hears someone enter. It is Tony and his face is as serious as a long list of Presidents and other government officials that have graced the face of networks in and around America during a political speech.

"Boss man crack him yet?" He sounds hopeful, but that look of his says otherwise.

"Something's different." McGee hardly wants to believe it, but there is no way to take it back now. "Seems annoyed." He catches Tony's look. "Okay, more than usual…"

Tony looks at Gibbs through the two-way mirror. He is stalking around the younger man--and shouting. His face is so unbelievably red, his blue eyes spitting laser beams of blue at the piece of shit in front of him.

"Boss man's totally lost it." Tony says without a touch of humor. "Should we get him out of there?"

"We shouldn't, but 'you' should."

"I will not." Tony's well on his way to start a bickering match. "He loves me already--it's you that he's still unsure about."

"Right…and that's why I should go ahead and--"

A loud thud fills the tiny room they are in. Their necks snap back to face forward and face the two-way mirror. Once they register what is happening, they both run from the room and burst through the door of the interrogation room.

* * *

Ducky sits at his clean and organized office desk while his few autopsy tables lay spotless behind him. He dots a few "I's" and he crosses a few "T's" on a few reports he had let slip past him over the last week.

When the double doors open, he greets whoever it may be, but does not take his eyes off the task at hand.

"Ducky." Director Shepard addresses him.

"Ah--Director Shepard." He catches her disapproving look. "My apologies--Jen--how are you and what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Ducky." She gives him a warm, playful smile. "I am well, thank you." She sees him waiting for her to continue. "I'd like to get your input on incomplete case…"

He thinks quickly for a moment, then puts the pen down, and turns to face her. "What exactly does an incomplete case mean--to a person such as myself?" He finishes with a soft smile.

"You never conducted an autopsy because there were no dead bodies found at the crime scene."

"Ah." He pin-points the case instantly, though it twists his gut slightly. "You are speaking of the Branson case. Mr. Palmer and myself made an appearance per Jethro's request."

"Agent Gibbs insisted that you both arrived after a previous crime scene."

"Previous crime scene?" Ducky shrugs. "I wouldn't know what that could be about. I do favors for a few other agency's, but I haven't gone outside of NCIS…outside of Gibbs' team for a little over five months now."

Jenny can feel her face flush. It is not from embarrassment, it is from anger.

Ducky sees the look in her eyes and carefully tries to control the situation by speaking quickly, yet not quickly enough for her to suspect the lies he is about to tell her.

"Jethro always seems to be one step ahead." He holds up his finger as he if he is touching a delicate memory. "I remember once a long time ago--not long enough in the context you might be thinking, but I remember--"

"Ducky." She stops him before he begins a long story. "What Agent Gibbs did was wrong."

"I can not imagine how." He plays it coolly. "When has Gibbs ever took kindly to letting a stranger poke and stick him--especially when injured? Besides, Officer David was with him--and she hardly comes across a person who is willing to let strangers near, even for a casual conversation."

"Yes, well, Officer David isn't with us any longer…" She finds this the perfect opportunity to more or less, change the subject. "I'd like to know your thoughts on that, doctor."

"Me?" He gets a slight case of the jitters for a split second. "A literal shame to see our young Ziva go…" He starts to question himself--wondering if what he has said is good enough to satisfy whatever itch she is having.

"And the prints?"

"Prints?" His forehead creases.

"Agent Gibbs' fingerprints were found on the outside of a condom wrapper." Both of her eyebrows lift in order to emphasize the issue. "Any idea why that may be?"

"Oh dear…" He says to her, but inside he is a raging ball of fury. "…Perhaps a investigation tactic?"

"So he says…" She instantly remembers DiNozzo telling her about Gibbs' answer in the previous days. "Any thought on whom his partner might have been?"

He tries to inhale easily and exhale just as easily, but he can not stop the slight sake to his hands.

"No." He says casually. "I'm afraid there isn't a way to find out unless Jethro tells one of us."

"My thoughts exactly…" She steps closer to him. "What's a little discussion between two long-time friends?" She does not wait for his answer. "A big break in a big case."

"Are you telling me you'd like me to trick Jethro into telling me his personal business?" Ducky feels angered by her request.

"Gibbs' gives away his personal business and his personal rights the moment he steps foot on the job!" She lets her rage flare a bit. "What he did on the job was uncalled for."

"I am sure the same could be said for a certain part of your history with the man in question, Director." Ducky stands from his chair. "I will not prey on him innocently and then run away from him with private information."

She takes Ducky's loyalty into great consideration, but her personal anger and professional position forces her to continue.

"If you are withholding any information--"

"I assure you Director, I am not!" He is beginning to feel the pressure at this very moment. "If Gibbs so much as drops a bomb on me--one that will help tie up any loose ends, then naturally I will urge him to confess or I will take it upon myself to do it for him--for the rest of the team." He stops a moment to catch a much needed breath. "Yes, it looks bad that his fingerprints were found at the crime scene, but should we really be calling it a crime scene when there weren't any bodies to be moved?"

"Something happened there." She is insistent. "I can feel it and Agent DiNozzo feels it." She sees his eyes urging to look anywhere, but her, yet they do not move. "Officer David left for a reason."

"Then perhaps the person to question is a plane ride away." He states.

She takes a long, hard look at him before spinning on her heels and fleeing the morgue.

Ducky lets go of a breath he never knew he was holding. His insides squeeze as he realizes that by lying to protect a dear friend, he has forced more pressure on Ziva.

* * *

The front door is pushed open a smidge. Tony's slender, but not exactly-that-muscular-body slips through the small opening and closes the door quickly--before neighbors or passerby's can see him.

The task was easy. He and the rest of Gibbs' team knew that he never did find a reason to lock his door.

He spots the opening to the basement and quickly jogs down the steps. He figures the faster he reaches his could-be destination, the more time he has to find a decent hiding spot in case Gibbs were to return home.

His fingers dance across the tools and other hardware supplies that riddle Gibbs' work tables. Turning around he takes notice to the clearing in the middle of the room. Once there lay a boat…now there lay nothing.

Turning back to the table, he begins to pull open drawers and sift through knick-knacks in hopes he might find a piece of paper or a case folder. Something concrete--something physically stable to prove something--anything.

His fingers slither underneath the tables. He is near giving up and leaving when his finger gets nicked. He quickly takes a look at his finger and sees a splinter sticking out of it. Grabbing a hold of the tip, he yanks it out of his finger quickly. The light is very dim and he makes a mental note to double check on it later. The last thing he needs is a piece of Gibbs' basement stuck inside his skin, mixing in with his DNA--and possibly, for whatever reason, ending up in one of Abby's machines. The jig would seriously be up then.

Sighing, he leans against one of the tables and crosses his arms over his chest. One of his hands comes up to rub the back of his head, sadly always sore from repetitive whacks to the back of it.

When his eyes wander to his feet, it is there he notices a scrap bin tucked in the corner full of wood, saw-dust, and a single piece of paper. Straightening himself, he creeps over to the bin and pulls out the paper.

_Ziva, we need to talk. About what happened. About everything._

_-Gibbs_

Tony's voice catches in his throat. Waiting a moment, he places the paper on the ground and pulls out his cell phone. He takes a quick snap shot and his phone creates a flash. He looks at the image to make sure it is clear and visible. Stuffing the phone back in his pocket, he then places the paper back into the bin laying just the way found it.

Turning around, he quickly jogs up the creaky wooden stairs, sneaks out he front door, and makes a bee line towards the sidewalk. Normally, he begins to walk in the direction of his car--which he parked two blocks away.

* * *

With his legs open and his lips still pursed, he tries to block out the shrieking voice of the read-head that towers over her desk.

"You better have a damn good reason, Jethro."

"He had it comin'." His attitude is careless.

"So does every other asshole you've let into that interrogation room!"

"He'll be just fine."

"You began the interrogation before his lawyer showed--then you violently threw him against the wall. Of course he'll be fine, but NCIS is going to suffer for your stupidity and carelessness."

"I assure you I took considerable care…" He trails on. "…as I slammed him against the wall…" He finishes in a mumble.

"This isn't funny, Jethro."

"I never thought it was." His head is beginning to throb--a feeling he has developed since his unusual intake of bourbon--or really, lack of. "Are we done here?" He stands abruptly.

"SIT DOWN, AGENT GIBBS!" The voice he never knew could get any louder, just did. "I won't have you disrespecting me. I am your superior."

"So that means you'd like to be on top?" He shoots daggers at her. "Don't give me this bureaucratic bullshit--not now, not ever. I know exactly where you and I stand."

Her nostrils flare, but she can not find anything to say to him.

"Consider this your second warning."

"The first being?" He becomes curious.

"Ziva's departure." She throws it in his face as if she knows the truth. "One more and I call in IA." He smirks at the mention of Internal Affairs. "Don't think I won't, Jethro." Her voice softens a smidge. She watches as his grin increases in size. "Get the hell out of my office."

He lets his teeth show as his lazy grin turns into a full-fledged smug grin--and then leaves her office.

* * *

The tech-smart Agent sneaks small glances at his boss. Guilt wiggles around his soft gut, but he forces himself to push it aside--his dedication to Tony's request is important to him and he will not fall back on his word.

"Where's DiNozzo?" Gibbs looks directly into McGee's working quarters.

"Don't know. He stepped out." He offers a shrug.

"You don't know…or he stepped out?" Gibbs is threatening in with an intense look.

"…I don't know…" McGee finally caves and goes with the easiest answer. "I could call him--"

"Leave it alone." Gibbs hit's a few keys on his keyboard. "We'll work the case until he returns."

McGee is grateful for the instruction and begins working at his computer.

* * *

The dim lights aluminates their work area. The darkness outside can be seen through the buildings large windows.

Tony throws his backpack on top of his desk. McGee nervously scans the area before turning his attention to Tony.

"Where have you been?!" He stands from his chair and reaches Tony's desk. "I thought Gibbs would never leave!"

"Yeah-yeah, whatever Probie--sit down." He shoves the younger Agent in his chair and blocks any way of him escaping. "Complications."

"…As in…" His nervousness is slipping away because Tony just happens to sound stupid at the moment.

"There's something there." His eyes flicker to the staircase. "The Director leave yet?"

"I don't know." McGee shrugs. "What does the Director have to do with this?"

"Shh--shut up! Nothing Probie, Nothing at all!" His voice is harsh whisper.

"What the hell's going on, Tony? And where were you?" McGee's patience is slipping and his tiredness for having to deal with a disgruntled Gibbs all day is gripping at his last bundle of nerves.

"I was at Gibbs' house."

"You broke into Gibbs' house?"

"The door was open." Tony rolls his eyes. "It's always open--anybody could just walk in there."

"You're not just anybody, Tony."

"Listen!" He snaps. "Gibbs 'is' hiding something…" He swallows.

"What makes you so sure?" A part of McGee refuses to agree.

"Let's just say I found something--"

"The condom to go with the wrapper we already have?!" McGee's eyes light up.

"Ew! No!" Tony whacks him on the back of his head. "Do you really think I'd touch a used condom?"

"Couldn't be anymore germy than half the women you've been with." McGee is rewarded with another whack to the back of the head. "One more and I swear I'll--"

"Easy, easy…" Tony inhales and backs away a little. "This isn't a joke, Probie."

"I'm not laughing, Tony." McGee's tone is sarcastic, yet serious. "What did you find?"

"A piece of paper--Gibbs wanted to talk to Ziva about something."

"Is this recent?"

"I'd have to run it by Abby… 'maybe' she can figure out when it was written…" Tony is stressed. "I'm having a hard time…with all of this."

"Well, you can only take it one step at a time, Tony…"

"'We' can take it on step at a time, Probie!" Tony corrects him. "There's o way in hell I'm going down alone."

"If you're so afraid to stick it to Gibbs--why bother?" McGee directly asks him.

Tony stands there; staring at his partner. Director Shepard's voice enters his mind and he visually flashes back to their meeting a few days prior.

"Because I care about Ziva…and I want her back." He tells him half the truth, yet and still, that 'is' good enough.

* * *

The bunker is dark; only a soft light from a bulb that dangles in the middle of the ceiling. Ziva sits with her back against the wall dressed in dingy tan cargo pants and a black t-shirt. Her skin is darker and so are her emotionless eyes.

She grips her weapon and checks it for the millionth time since she has arrived. A loud rumble ahead makes the bulb flicker and slightly swing. Staring at it, she remembers why it burns her with a recent memory…

"_Ziva, please…"_

"_Look at me…I can't…" _

Her eyes quickly look away as shame begins to show itself again. Shaking her heard, she rids herself of the memory and begins focusing on her gun once again.


	9. Before

**Chapter 9: Before**

It is a little past five in the morning.

* * *

The tall, clean-cut Special Agent with a lousy disposition appears from behind the elevator doors. The coffee in his hand is his third cup--apparently the after effects of a bourbon splurge into the wee hours of the night has an effect on the aging Marine.

He is the only one there. Everyone is still nestled in their beds waiting for their alarm clocks to go off--well, at least those that originate from his team. The other Agents he is unaware of and as for Director Shepard--he could really care less.

Leaning back, he brings the coffee to his lips, but stops when he notices Tony's desk. The files for those eager to join NCIS sit on top of each other until they create a lengthy tower right on top of DiNozzo's work domain. And it is then where he turns his head slightly and looks at _her_ empty desk.

* * *

_Ziva is the first to arrive and her team leader takes notice to her attire._

_"Didn't have to come prepared, David." There is a touch of humor in his voice, but it never lacks with professionalism. "We've got to wait for Tony and McGee."_

_"I was practicing." She insists as she drops her bag on top of her desk. "Do I look like a crack doer?"_

_"Dealer." He corrects her as he takes in her appearance once more. "Yeah."_

_She takes in his simple word and agrees easily before taking a seat at her desk. After several minutes, she discovers she doesn't have any email and turns her attention back to him._

_"Where is Tony and McGee?"_

_"Securing the warehouse." He does not look at her as he continues to pound on a few keys on his keyboard. "They'll be here in no time…"_

_She sighs--impatient._

_

* * *

_

_DiNozzo rushes from the elevator with McGee hot on his tail. They both round the corner at the same time and enter their work area._

_"Well Ms. David, what shall I be calling you today?" Tony takes in her grungy appearance._

_"Your worst nightmare." She smirks at him._

_"You're the best-worst nightmare I've ever had…" His eyes roll back in his head._

_"Are you always this full of it, Tony?" Ziva is curious._

_"Well…" He cuts himself short as he catches a look from Gibbs. "Everything's all set, boss. McGee, get the gear."_

_McGee props the suitcase on top of Gibbs' desk and clicks it open._

_"Welcome to the wonder world of 'Eyes and Ears'…" McGee says with excitement while Tony fights the urge to head-slap him._

_"This is the snazziest eyes and ears I've ever seen…" Tony picks up the sunflower necklace. "This one must be for you Gibbs." He finishes with a wide-toothed smile before Gibbs' glare starts to scare him to his very core. "Just kidding boss…"_

_Gibbs' serious look turns into a slight smile as he takes the necklace from Tony's hand and hands it to Ziva. "Put this on."_

_Ziva feels like protesting because the sunflower is rather girly, but decides it is best if she does not._

_"And for the good Marine gone bad Marine…" McGee picks up the single dog tag and hands it to Gibbs._

_"Don't you feel kind of dirty now, boss?" Tony has this excited and jealous look on his face._

_"Don't ever ask me something like that ever again, DiNozzo." Gibbs shakes off the disturbance DiNozzo has brought him, puts the tag around his neck, "Won't they grow suspicious if there's only one around my neck?"_

_"You've just gone from good to bad…" McGee mentions. "They'll probably think that's a pretty good reason for wearing one."_

_"Probably--McGee?!" Gibbs is sharp._

_"….Positively…" McGee still sounds doubtful._

_Ziva reaches inside for the ear pieces. Taking one she hands it to Gibbs while she stuffs the other one inside her ear._

_"Ready." Ziva confirms._

_"Nice threads boss man…" Tony looks at Gibbs in his usual attire. "Abby's lab?"_

_Gibbs inwardly groans at Tony's constant need to open his mouth, but leaves the others to head to Abby's lab where he'll ready himself in street clothes._

_

* * *

_

_McGee sits hovering over the work station in the back of the utility van. A open bottle of Pepsi without its cap on stands on the table a few inches from him._

_"This is the worst shit I've ever had the displeasure of working with." Tony grunts as the static makes his ears pop._

_"I'm trying to clear the reception."_

_"Give me that!" Tony grabs the dial McGee is currently working with and twists it quickly from left to right. "What the hell's the matter with this damn thing, Probie?"_

_"How the hell should I know?!" McGee is getting pretty heated now. "They probably brought an interference tool."_

_"And why didn't we think to bring an interference tool of our own?"_

_McGee does not have an answer so he does not answer._

_"You fucked up. Gibbs is going to kill you."_

_"Shut the hell up, Tony!" McGee smacks his hand away from the dial. "I'll handle this--you hardly know what you're doing when it comes to this."_

_"Oh and you do?" He purses his lips and rolls his eyes as he yanks off his headphones. "I'll watch you and you listen."_

_"Whatever." Mcgee mutters back as he continues to try and fix the clearance of the audio._

_

* * *

_

_Ziva feels herself being pushed into yet another unmarked van. Gibbs is thrown in behind her, his body falling half-way onto hers. He hurries and gets himself off of her as to not crush her with his weight._

_"So much for eyes and ears." He mutters sarcastically as he feels a sharp pain in his side._

_"They are smarter."_

_"Not smarter--dirtier." He swallows the slight fear he seldom feels. "DiNozzo and McGee will find us."_

_"I have a hard time believing that." She whispers back as the van begins to rock from the cracked and damaged road they are driving on. "We've been transported twice!"_

_He can hear the intensity in her voice. "They could be following us."_

_Ziva looks doubtingly at him, but does not say another word._

_

* * *

_

_Director Shepard removes her glasses as the two male Agents look frantically in her direction._

_"Is there a reason for this 'surprise', Agents McGee and DiNozzo?"_

_"Branson's got Gibbs and Ziva!" Tony quickly gets past his already-parted lips._

_Her face turns serious and her glasses are thrown on to her desk_

_"W-we gave them eyes and ears, and we were sitting--"_

_"Zip it Probie, she doesn't want the whole story!" Tony is rude to his partner because he is in complete panic mode. "We got inside and realized they were transported."_

_"Where could they be? Where does Branson make deals?"_

_"Anywhere. Any place." Tony shrugs. "He's completely random."_

_"Then how the hell are we supposed to find them?!" Director Shepard inhales sharply. "They're good as gone!"_

_McGee's stomach turns over in his stomach as Tony's does the same._

_

* * *

_

_Gibbs watches as a nameless man circles him and the chair he is currently tied to._

_"Special Agent Gibbs…" He has discovered his name after a photo of Gibbs was taken and processed. "Now I knew we were most wanted by the FBI, but I had no idea another agency was so keen on getting to know us…"_

_Gibbs stays quiet as his mind wanders to the partner that is no longer by his side._

_"Branson's not going to be happy when he gets here…" He whacks Gibbs with the handle of his gun. "A drop is a drop--"_

_"And a deal's a deal." Gibbs interjects as he begins to taste the blood in his mouth. "I've still got the drugs."_

_"You think we're stupid enough to take it?" He gives a hearty laugh._

_"I thought you guys were a couple of risk takers…" Gibbs looks at him with a small grin._

_"Risk takers--not fucking morons." He hits Gibbs one more time with the gun, but this time from the other side of his face._

_"Where's my partner?" Gibbs manages to ask._

_"Paying the price--the same as you if not worse."_

_The blood begins to trickle past Gibbs' lips and onto his torn t-shirt._

_

* * *

_

_Ziva sits alone in a room waiting for more pain. Her mind tries to think of something else, but she suspects very different from what she has already experienced._

_She is not upset, but angry. How could the team not consider the technology and the wits that this drug circle has? Perhaps they rushed in their investigations or their way of operation was sloppy. Whatever the case may be--they are in serious trouble without a stable thought as to how they are going to be found._

_

* * *

_

_Gibbs feels himself being untied, but the cuffs still cut into his wrists. A different man grabs a hold of his hair and lifts himself out of the wooden chair. After he is standing for a moment, the man shoves a gun in his back and begins to give him directions on where to go._

_

* * *

_

_Ziva feels her body smack onto the cold floor. Her head is throbbing and her bright eyes are dense and tired. Her mind is telling her to move, but her body wants a few more moments to rest. As soon as she feels as if she can stand, a sharp kick to her side keeps her where she is._

_

* * *

_

The previous scorching cup of coffee has gone frigid. His breath is hitched in his throat as his blue eyes become moist. From every side they look as if they are blue diamond crystals.

"Boss?" Tony waves his hands slowly in front of Gibbs' face. "You okay?"

"What is it, DiNozzo?" His voice is unusual because it is soft sounding.

"…Well, I'm ten minutes late for work…" He scans the area. "…and McGee isn't even here yet."

Gibbs closes his eyes and mentally shakes himself. "LATE?!" He shoots out of his chair. "Why?"

"I slept through my alarm. I'm really, really, really…extremely sorry, boss."

"It doesn't happen again." He states as he throws his full cup of coffee inside his trashcan. "Find McGee."

* * *

Tony feels a twisting in his gut as Director Shepard looks at the photo on his cell phone.

"Where is the original?"

"I forged a copy, grabbed the original, took it the lab…" He sees her eyes widen. "A different lab than Abby's…the note was written a few days after their rescue."

"Good work, Agent DiNozzo." She awards him with a small smile, but it falls when she sees the doubt in his eyes. "You wouldn't be on the verge of cracking now, would you?"

He laughs nervously. "Only a matter of time before Gibbs finds out what we're doing, don't you think?" His stare is somber.

"You leave him to me."

"I'm right next to him…he'll have to go through me before he gets to you." Tony fixes his tie.

"I gave you a job to do, Agent DiNozzo." Her voice is stern. "Do it."

The weakness in his eyes quickly morph into large pulls of deception. "Yes, Director."

* * *

He sits stiffly at a part of his work table. Notes and images from the Branson case stare back at him--laughing at him. Grabbing the bottle of bourbon, he turns it over into a glass and watches as a single drop splashes to the bottom. Sighing, he slams the bottle in the trashcan near him and holds his tired head.

Twenty minutes later he find himself sanding a new piece of wood. This time when he goes to feel its smoothness, he uses the inside of his hand. Happy with the results, he picks up another piece and begins to do the same.

After several hours, he itches for fresh air. Grabbing the bin full of scrap wood and wood shavings, he hauls it upstairs and walks with it outside until he reaches the back of his house. He throws the wood into a wood pile--one he really could do without since he never thinks to light his fireplace anymore.

The sawdust falls onto the ground and there it will stay until it seeps into the natural earth or is carried away by the chilly wind that accompanies the winter air.

Rustling catches his attention and he is there scanning the ground with his eyes; trying to find the source of the sound. When he notices a piece of paper flapping around as it was pierced by a tiny branch, he grabs a hold of it and reads it.

_Ziva, we need to talk. About what happened. About everything._

_-Gibbs_

His hand threatens to crumple the paper and get rid of it once and for all, but the thin blue lines on the paper appear darker to him. Walking forward until he reaches the front of his house, he stands under the outside lights of his porch and looks at the note again.

Something was different.


	10. Attitude

**Chapter 10: Attitude**

Eli David stills his hand to answer his telephone.

"Director David, this is Director Shepard." She bounces back and forth between addressing the agency she is from or just waiting.

"NCIS." He says clearly into the phone. "How can I help you?"

"I would like to speak to Ziva David…" Her voice is professional, but the hopefulness behind it can be read even through the phone.

"Ziva can not be reached."

"Was she sent back to the states?"

"No. Her Liaison status was terminated." His tone is gruff. "She's in a secluded region following through with her appointed duties."

"You haven't sent her to kill again, have you Eli?" The Director tries to control her own emotions, but she is having a hard time. "Here we taught her how to be a proper investigator."

"As you did--but she stripped herself of that. She returned to Mossad with intentions to continue with what she started with."

"Does that make you feel good?"

"I've trained my children to follow the way of Mossad. Ziva is the only one left. She has failed me once and now she has returned to make her father proud." He slows his speech. "It makes me proud."

"If she dies--it's her blood on your hands."

"As expected." It hardly phases him. "Yet her blood is my blood--I find nothing wrong with that."

"Could I possibly have her coordinates?" She tries to change the subject. "It is important I speak with her."

"I've already told you--she can't be reached."

"Right…" Her tone is of disbelief.

"I should warn you Director, our rules and regulations differ from yours. I'd hate to have to have some of my Agents stop some of your Agents at the gates. Stay right where you are."

"Are you threatening me, Director David?"

"Warning you." He corrects her before he hangs up his phone.

* * *

His eyes travel with his moving partner as if he is ready to pounce on his prey. McGee feels a pair of eyes on him and turns to look over his shoulder.

"What?" He asks DiNozzo, his tone slightly hitched.

"Don't let Abby get to you." He says in a warning tone. "If she persists--and believe me, she will, continue to deny it. Tell her you're gay if you have to."

"I'm not gay!" McGee gets angry. "You worry about yourself. I'm not the one who can't keep their mouths shut."

"I can keep my mouth shut, I just choose not to."

"Well once in a while I wish you'd spare me."

"Once in a while I wish you'd disappear--but my wishes have gone overlooked." He stands from his desk. "Any sign of Gibbs?"

"I just got here."

"True…" He takes a quick sweep of their work stations. "Think he'll ask about a replacement?"

"Probably. He's been harping about it enough."

"Doesn't that peg you as being just a tad bit strange?" Tony lingers by McGee's desk. "Normally he would be content with just the two of us."

"How would you know?"

"When Kate…passed, it was only the three of us until Ziva showed up--and even then he treated her like she was the gum on the bottom of his shoe."

"Gibbs does that." McGee shrugs. "You guys did the same thing to me when I was new."

"We did not."

"Oh please Tony, yes you did. Gibbs not so much, but in reality he let you carry on therefore he's just as guilty."

"Yeah--well, don't expect our guilt to eat us up inside…" Tony wanders away from McGee and rolls his eyes when his back finally turned.

"I saw that."

"Wow Probie, you're on fire this morning. Care to share just which bug crawled up your ass this morning?"

"Shut the hell up, Tony. I'm so sick of your shit." McGee jabs his computer's 'on' button, but does not sit down.

"Whoa there Probie…this is too weird. Are we in the Twilight Zone?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm not the one that often travels there."

"What the hell's your problem?" Tony knits his eyebrows.

McGee gives him a dark look--one Tony has never seen on his face ever before. Sitting down, McGee begins to check his email.

"Hello--I'm talking to you McCrabby."

"It was your job to secure the warehouse." McGee states.

"And secure it I did…" He sees McGee's doubt clear as the sun that is creeping through the large windows. "Are you saying it's my fault they were held captive?"

McGee shrugs. "It's possible." He sees Tony about to make an advance towards him, so he stands to better his point. "I told you to quit playing around--to quit chattering on. To stick to the task at hand and instead you ignored me."

"Sorry Probie, but I'm a pro in my line of work. I'm the master of what I do."

"Really? Because the last time I checked Gibbs was our Team Leader." He stands his ground. "What if you just screwed up? It happens."

"I didn't fuck up, Probie." Tony's features become angry.

"It's possible."

"No. It. Is. Not." He turns away and storms over to the elevator doors.

McGee exhales slowly and feels the tension drain from his body. He does not feel better, but a weight has been lifted.

* * *

Gibbs stands by an empty metal table. His palms are pressed flat against the cold surface.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah, Duck--I got nothing else to listen to at the moment." His tone grumpy.

"This is serious, Jethro."

"Oh, I know…" Gibbs swallows as he pulls out the note from the inside of his pants pocket. "And it just got even more serious…"

Ducky takes the note and reads the simple scribbles on it. "Did you write this?"

"You'd think with my name on it…" He watches Ducky's eyes grow intense. "I wrote one just like it, but this was forged."

"Anthony let his curiosity take him to the next level."

"Uh huh…" Gibbs removes his hands from the table and rubs them together slowly as a way to warm them. "What'll I do now, Duck?"

"The last time I gave you advice you butchered it better than the street corner deli." Ducky hands him the note. "I'm afraid you are on your own, Jethro."

"I haven't got anyone else to talk to!" His voice raises.

"Ziva's an option." Gibbs rolls his eyes. "If you would have gone this route in the first place, this wouldn't have escalated."

"Thought you weren't gonna give me advice."

"I stand corrected." Ducky's voice is almost careless. "There's no use in speaking to you, Jethro. You're treating this like every other tragedy in your life."

"It's practical."

"But it isn't logical!" He slams his stack of papers on top of the empty table to emphasize his point.

"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs is insincere.

He turns quickly and exit's. Ducky leans against the table; his expression flashes with depression.

* * *

Lior crawls skillfully on his stomach. Ziva, his newly appointed partner, leads in front of him. After several minutes, she forces herself into a sitting position and carefully lowers herself into the bunker. In a matter of seconds they both scan the area with their weapons drawn.

"It is safe." She tells him.

"That's what we thought last time." He mentions their previous bunker, which had recently been blown away by a sudden surprise.

"It is all we have now." She throws her knapsack into the wall farthest from the opening they came through. "We sleep here. Tomorrow we look for resources."

"If there is a tomorrow…" He corrects her casually before throwing his bag next to hers.

* * *

Lior shifts in his sleep. A sudden click of metal makes his eyes open quickly. He hurriedly sits up and presses his back against the wall."

"It is fine." Ziva says easily.

He takes notice to her posture and what she is doing. The small bristled brush rubs against a piece of her gun.

"Is there a reason for this?"

"It relaxes me." She smiles as a warm thought enters her mind.

"What is it?"

"You've reminded me of someone…" Her smile falls when reality sinks in.

"Someone special?" He threads lightly, but threads just the same. "A significant other?"

"A friend." She pushes the brush against an area of her gun once again.

"How so?" He fishes for his canteen, but does not drink the bit of water that is left.

"He once asked me why I did this…we were on a case…undercover…" She remembers being stuck under the covers with Tony for a few nights. "I told him it relaxed me."

"Case?"

She sighs.

"You do not need to explain." He assures her. "Sometimes it is best to keep things to yourself."

Her hands still and she closes her eyes…

"_Nobody has to know."_

"_Nobody will know."_

"I agree." She says once her eyes open and she continues to clean her gun.

* * *

McGee's attention flickers to the elevator. He hopes it is Tony, but instead he sees Gibbs fly around the corner with a fresh, steaming cup of coffee.

"Morning." He mutters.

"Anything the matter, McGee?" Gibbs watches his Agent shake his head. "Where's Tony?"

"Don't know." His lips are tight. "Maybe he took the day off."

"He had better not." Gibbs finds the seat at his desk. "Find a replacement, yet?"

"No." He answers; his eye contact still lingers on his computer screen. "You'd get a better answer asking Tony."

"What's that mean?" Gibbs stills his fingers as they hover over his keyboard.

"You left him in charge, didn't you? I'm just his little helper. His Probie." The end of McGee's state is a scoff. He looks to Gibbs. "Sorry--I shouldn't have said that."

"Something bothering you?"

"…No…just got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, I guess, boss." McGee pushes his own feelings aside. "What are we working on?"

"Dead Marine. Found at his home. Call Ducky, I'll get the truck."

McGee nods and does what he is told.

* * *

Small, white, puffy flakes linger in the whipping air. It probably will not amount to anything, but stranger things have happened in the winter months.

The level of the NCIS building that could possibly be known as Team Gibbs' floor is quiet and cold. The usual warmth that is created by the people that occupy it and their glow-y, moody setting lights does not exist.

Inside the four steel walls of the elevator, two men fierce men face-off.

"Ya gonna speak?" Gibbs breaks the silence that has settled between them.

"I got nothing to say." Tony spits.

Gibbs smashes the note into Tony's chest. "Talk."

"I could say the same for you."

"Are you trying to get your ass kicked, DiNozzo?"

"I could say the same for you, Gibbs."

Gibbs takes the note and stuffs it back into his pants pocket.

"What are you hiding?" Tony asks as he sees Gibbs' hand about to hit the emergency button. "Where's the condom?" He continues because Gibbs refuses to give answers to any of his questions. "Why'd Ziva leave?"

Gibbs whips around and slams Tony against the wall--his forearm jamming into his throat. "You givin' me the third degree?"

Tony shoves at his superior and makes Gibbs stumble back. "Somebody's got to do it."

"You broke into my house!"

"You leave the fucking door unlocked!" Tony stand firmly on the ground with his boot-covered feet.

"You had no right to come into my house--"

"And you have no right lying to us. We're your team--if you can't trust us then who are you going to trust?"

"This isn't about the team!" Gibbs snaps, then holds his head as he feels it grow heavy.

"What happened?" He pushes once more. "Why did you need to speak to Ziva?"

He lets go of his head. "None of your fucking business, DiNozzo!"

Tony steps closer to him. "I'm making it my business. Ziva was the best thing that happened to this team since Kate. She brought back an ease I never thought would exist again."

"You're just infatuated with her." Gibbs is sarcastic. "Any woman would do that to ya."

"Don't talk about Ziva as if she hasn't left a valued impression on all of us." Tony's eyes soften. "Sure--okay, she was a pain in the ass in the beginning--but she was coming around…she worked hard to get there."

"Don't want to hear this." Gibbs reaches for the emergency switch again, but this time, Tony knocks his hand away. "DiNozzo!"

"How can you sleep at night?" Tony asks. Gibbs' back still faces Tony's front. "Does hiding things dull the pain?"

"You don't know shit, DiNozzo."

"I know she's gone." He reaches past Gibbs' arm and flicks the emergency switch. "And I know I miss her."

The elevator rises swiftly and the doors open. Tony emerges and heads straight to his desk. Grabbing his backpack, he decides to avoid Gibbs by taking the back elevator.

The four walls surround Gibbs as he sits in a parked elevator; his back pressed against the wall and his knees bent. His head rests tiredly in his two rugged hands as his insides pulsate.


	11. Partners

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, thanks for the wonderful reviews! They have really been helpful is creating new chapters as well as remembering things that were said and done in previous chapters. I'm not always forgetful, but sometimes I do forget things (as I'm sure we all do). I hope everyone's still interested. And yes-- Gibbs and Ziva will be speaking to one another. I'm not gonna say when because I'm not exactly sure on all of the upcoming chapters--but they will have to eventually speak to one another in some way.**-GEEK**

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* * *

  
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**Chapter 11: Partners**

He stands before her desk, ready to give her answers to any questions she has for him. She stands behind her desk, her back turned to him as she looks outside of her window.

"Take a seat, Agent McGee." She waits for the sound of him sitting and then turns around. As she grows closer to him, she can feel his bundle of nerves levitating in the air. "Something occurred to me this morning--"

"Like what?" He interrupts.

"The fact I saw you hand over an external hard drive to Agent DiNozzo."

"Actually, it isn't called an external hard drive--instead it's--"

"What it is does not interest me. What is on it, does."

"Nothing, but a few video files. See Tony's insane over this website--its main focus is to find the next web sensation. The reason why his files were on the computer is because sometimes…as you may or may not know, he loses focus on the job and resorts to having fun."

She is circling him as he takes a moment to catch his breath. His story seems believable, but his outpouring of it is at a faster rate than she is used to--when it comes to him.

"He was afraid Gibbs might find it on his computer and accuse him of slipping on the job--with hard proof."

"I see." She finally speaks. "Do you think Tony would mind if I took a look at some of his… 'web sensations' before he uploads them to his account on this website you speak of?"

"Well--I…sure." He holds his breath for a moment. "I can go get him if you'd like."

"Don't bother. I'll call him when I'm ready." She starts to see through him at this point. "One more question, Agent McGee."

"Yes, Director?"

"Are you aware of the seriousness of lying to the Director of NCIS?"

"Of course." His voice is as firm as it can be.

"Very well then. That's all the questions I have for you today." She turns her back on him, walks to her desk, and takes a seat. "You may go."

"Thank you Director." The words rush out of his mouth as his body rushes out of her office.

* * *

Gibbs removes himself from his chair. His stomach is a rocky sea of nerves--and his intake of coffee has nothing to do with this kind of sensation. When his body is no longer visible due to the metal doors closing, one of his Agents tries for conversation with the other.

"Come here." McGee says after he makes a 'psst!' in Tony's direction.

"Shoo fly, don't bother me." Tony mutters as he continues to surf the video site. "I just received fifty hits for my video of myself--"

"Tony--"

"You know, the one where I pretended to drink something that wasn't even there? Yeah--I totally sold that shit. They love me. Haha!" He clicks some more to see the rest of his stats.

"Tony, lis--"

"The demographic is more male than female…I think I may be actually bothered by that…" He pauses a moment, then cracks a smile. "No--forget it, I'm not. I'm just happy I've got hits…ah yes, fifty hits since a half hour ago…"

"Tony, shut the hell up!" McGee growls. "The Director wants to see you."

"Very funny--and you shut up! I'm not speaking to you." He gives McGee the cold shoulder.

"Are you going to ignore me for the rest of your life?"

"I might." Tony pouts. "You know despite what anyone might say about me, I have feelings…and you hurt them yesterday."

"Cry me a river." McGee rolls his eyes. "The Director 'will' be calling for you soon. She questioned me!"

Tony closes the website and turns to face McGee. "About what?"

"About that memory stick I gave you the other day."

"You gave me a what?"

"The emails from Ziva." McGee resists the urge to roll his eyes. "She saw me hand it to you."

"Ah shit, way to go McObvious. What'd you tell her?"

"I told her it was full of videos files you make to put on your account."

"You told her about my videos?" Tony looks worried. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that."

"Yeah--well, you know what? You better get comfortable with it because she wants to see you and that memory stick before the end of the day!"

"Well I don't have it with me."

"The way she's fishing for information, she'll make you get it."

"But I don't have any new videos of myself and all the others I deleted."

"Better make time to get home and make some. Call me if you need help putting them on the drive--go on, get to it! If the Director finds out I lied to her, she'd kill me."

"Actually, she'd fire you." McGee gives him a knowing look. "Right--but what about Gibbs? If I leave, he'll kill me and I mean really kill me." He thinks back to the night before inside the elevator. "Tell him I had a family emergency."

"Your family hates you." McGee does not mean any harm by it, but the look in Tony's eyes makes him realize that he made a mistake. "I didn't mean it like that, Tony."

"No--it's fine." Tony assures him though his tone of voice is thicker. "I'll be back a-sap."

"Hurry!" McGee whispers loudly as Tony's suit jacket flaps behind him.

* * *

The team's most eccentric individual waits patiently inside the back elevator. Once the familiar 'ding' fills the sleek, metal walls, she emerges with an extra pep in her step.

"Abby." McGee takes notice to her first. "What are you doing up here?"

"Came to visit. I've been lonely down there in my lab…with my babies…" She pouts as she feels the loss already. "And you Timmy, are hiding something from me!"

"What? No I'm not." He clears his throat briefly.

"Oh yes you are…I can feel it…" She knits her eyebrows before crossing the path to his desk. "I can feel it right here." The front elevator sounds and Gibbs rounds the corner with another cup of steaming hot coffee. "Gibbs!" She runs over to him and slams her body into his. "What--no Caf-Pow?"

"Abs--" He says through a pained voice. "Get off of me."

She frowns as she lets him go. "You're never this mean to me, Gibbs."

"Not mean--you just slammed into my stomach." He swallows the wave of sickness. "I'm alright."

"I thought you had a belly of steel." She takes her hand and rubs his stomach furiously. "Just as I thought…" She can feel a bit of muscle.

He laughs it off though she made him slightly uncomfortable. Taking a seat, he opens his email.

"What can I do for ya, Abs?"

"Wait. Something's wrong…" She walks directly over to McGee's desk again and pauses. Then she walks over to Gibbs' desk again and pauses.

"What?" Gibbs is annoyed by her action.

"You're hiding something from me." She turns back to quickly look at McGee. "The both of you are…" She realizes Tony's desk and walks over to it. "So is he."

"How can you tell? He's not even here." McGee says to her.

"Where'd he go?" Gibbs is miffed by this newfound information.

"It doesn't matter--I can feel it!" She puts two of her fingers to the side of her head and closes her eyes. "I can just feel it…"

"Where's Tony?" Gibbs is staring at McGee.

"He had to step out. Family emergency."

"Where'd he really go?" Gibbs can not believe that.

"That's what he told me." McGee keeps it simple knowing that it is the only way to get through to Gibbs and to keep him from pawing around and asking more questions. "I can call him to find out where he is."

"Do that!" He says. "Abs, get back in your lab."

"Aw Gibbs--come on, I'm lonely down there. Lately you've all been knocking out cases faster than usual…I hardly get to see you guys anymore."

"Abs--downstairs." He rather not explain the many complications that are surfacing in their little work area.

"Are you crabby because you haven't been on a date, in like, forever?"

"Abs!"

"I'm going. I'm going…" She smiles warmly at him.

Gibbs gives her the grin he knows she is expecting, but when she's gone behind the elevator doors, it falls and McGee falls victim to his attacks.

"This is the second time DiNozzo's gone missing after I've stepped out."

"Maybe you shouldn't step out so much."

"WHAT?!" He jumps out of his chair.

"I'm just saying…"

"You're just saying--what?"

"I'm just saying maybe you shouldn't leave us unattended all the time."

"I'm not a supervisor."

"You don't have to be--you're our Team Leader…and when our Team Leader leaves the team…we tend to wander."

"You're still here!"

"That's because I'm always here!" McGee barks. "I'm the reliable one around here whenever you feel the need to go for a coffee run or--whatever else you do."

"Watch it, McGee." Gibbs twitches from the last bit of McGee's statement. "I hardly leave this building. You know that. I visit Ducky or I head over to Abby's. Sometimes--SOMETIMES, I have to meet with the Director."

"All I'm saying is the minute you turn your head, Tony takes it upon himself to do whatever."

"Is this your way of looking out for your teammate? Because you're doing nothing, but harming him."

"Is that really true? After all the things he's said and done to me?" He can see the 'dark' change in his boss at this very moment. And instead of it scaring him, it angers him further. "But I suppose it's quite alright to have him treat me like a piece of shit."

"He's a class clown."

"What's that make me--the teacher?"

"No, I'm the teacher. You learn from me!"

"Then I guess the only role left is the helpless kid in the front of the class who takes his schoolwork seriously." McGee makes motions to his work space. "This is it, boss. This is who I am. To the team, to Tony--to you."

"What the hell's going on?!" Gibbs feels like ripping his hair completely out of his skull. "FIND DINOZZO!"

"On it, like always, boss." McGee sits in his chair and begins to phone Tony once again.

Gibbs picks up his coffee and begins to walk out of their work area, but soon turns around and begins to pace back and forth. His tongue burning with every swig of his scorching hot coffee.

He wants to leave, but he can not leave. Not now. Not when McGee has just called him out. If he leaves--it will only give McGee more of an advantage.

McGee hangs up the phone and wait's a few moments before he speaks.

"He's on his way." He tells his superior. "Mind if I use the men's room?"

"Do what you want, McGee."

McGee hides the shock from his answer as he wanders away from his desk.

From the level above, the Director watches her ex partner and lover pace the floor beneath her.

* * *

Lior hands the dingy phone to his partner. He watches her tell the person on the other line to connect her to her father in Tel Aviv. When he sees her disappointment, he takes the phone from her and hangs it up.

"No answer?"

"He's in a meeting." Her mind begins to wander. "This is the second time today."

"This is the only source of a phone we will have until we arrive." Hopelessness crosses his features. "I'm sorry, Ziva."

"Don't be. I will contact him soon." She says it to assure herself, but it fails instantly.

"We should get some rest."

She nods at his suggestion and follows him to the single room they were able to book for the night.

* * *

Smoke fills the air of the darkened bar. Its visitors sink inside comfortably. Their troubles being swallowed with every drop of liquor their body consumes.

The once sophisticated Agent DiNozzo slouches in the booth farthest to the back corner. His fifth shot glass of whiskey is being cradled in his hand.

He does not know what to say or think. What to do or feel. He is being led around by different parties--who demand different obligations--and he can't get mad because he started a few himself.

The Director is using him, but it feels good to get back at Gibbs. Gibbs deserves it--he deserves it for not caring about Ziva. He deserves it because he rather fill her spot with an average replacement.

McGee believes Tony and he are a team--that they are working with each other to find out exactly what Gibbs is hiding. And it's wrong, because McGee knows nothing about the director and Tony's plans.

"What are you doing here, Tony?" McGee appears; towering over Tony's miserable slump.

"What's it look like, Probie?"

"Getting plastered--for some reason I'm not sure I'll accept." He swoops in to the cushion on the other side of the booth. "Should you really be drinking this much when you know you've got work in the morning?"

"I know you're here and who you are--I'm not as bad as I might look." He swallows the rest of the contents in his glass. "How'd you know I was here?"

"Took a guess."

"Well--good for you. Sorry, there's no prize in finding a sorry piece of shit."

"Don't be so 'easy' on yourself, Tony." McGee smirks. "How about we get out of here?"

"How about…" He feels a wave of nausea hit his stomach full blast. "…Sounds good."

"My place or yours?"

"Gee McGee…I never knew you felt this way…" Tony feels McGee put his arm over his shoulder. "Should I feel worried about our closeness at the moment?"

"I've got a feeling in the morning you won't even remember a thing."

"…I'm not very comfortable with what you just said…"

"Shut up, Tony."


	12. Newbie

**Chapter 12: Newbie**

A shrill ring echoes loudly inside the open basement. Agent Gibbs removes himself from inside his boat structure and reaches into the pocket of his hooded sweat shirt.

"Gibbs." His voice groggy. Standing up, he stretches slightly. "'Lo?"

"What are we doing these days, Agent Gibbs?"

His heart begins to pound--though it is not fear that overcomes him. Instead, it is realization of the man on the other line.

"Branson." He mutters more to himself, but the sick chuckle from the other end confirms he was heard. "You still alive?"

He laughs. "Ta-Da." He hums for a moment. "If I weren't alive, I'm sure you would have been the one to kill me."

"Damn right--son of a bitch." He tosses a wood hand-tool down at his work table.

"Now Gibbs-y, that isn't anyway to be around an old friend, is it?" He questions; his physical smirk can be felt through the phone.

"You're no friend of mine." He places his back against the wall. "What do ya want?"

"How is Agent David?"

Gibbs inhales sharply. He has not seen or spoken to her in six months.

"She itchin' to give it another go?"

"Enough! What the fuck do you want, Branson?!" Gibbs hates himself for loosing control, but it is a natural reaction.

"I thought I'd play with you, Gibbs-y."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah…" He laughs evilly. "I know how much you just love to play."

Gibbs grunts. "When I find you, you're fucked."

"Promises, promises, Gibbs-y." He pauses.

With a shaky finger, he ends the phone call. He shoves the phone back into the pocket of his sweat shirt. Then, he begins his usual hot pursuit for bourbon; but there is none. He uses his foot to kick his work table, time and time again, until his foot is sore.

"Bastard…" He manages to choke out. "Fucking bastard."

* * *

_The room is dark and lifeless though they both occupy the space. Her breathing lifts as his deflates. The tapping of his boot against the concrete floor is not in sync with the tapping of her shoe._

_He looks through to the dark corner where a hole in the floor is covered with tons of debris. Underneath it, mixed in with sand and chips of concrete lays the used item that could be in question if ever found. It is not a secure place, but it is all that he can find for the time being._

_His head throbs more than the rest of his body. Her situation the complete opposite._

_The light that was turned off on them is on now. His wandering hands found it several hours ago._

_"We're stuck, aren't we?" Her voice breaking the silence._

_"Trapped." He tries to ease the situation. It is the only way he can find an ounce of control. "They'll get here."_

_"When?"_

_"Don't know." His tone is flat; his hopefulness long-dead._

_"Great."_

_He scoots closer to her form, but sticks to his own wall. His boot comes close to nudging her shoe, but it still is enough for her to pull her feet away as her knees settle at the same level of her chest. It is a reserved position, but it hardly screams fear._

_"It's okay to talk…'bout it." He assures her. His own gut instincts telling him that this very well could be his fault more than it is hers._

_"I do not need to talk about it." Her words are as quick as a viper's tongue. "Do you?"_

_A part of him wants to scream 'yes', but her eyes tell him that her question does not request a positive answer._

_"No." He puts his head down and closes his eyes._

_She watches him--she feels his forced lie, but she does not care. If he only knew of the feelings she began to develop for him, he would have known how she felt now._

_If only…_

_If only…_

* * *

Lior sees his friend struggle to pick herself off of the ground. The sand beneath her leg is being stained by the blood that pours from her open wound.

"Ziva." He calls softly for her, rustling against the dusty ground.

She lifts her head, her hair a raving mess. "I'm fine." Her voice is faded; her lips chapped and her teeth chattering. "Please--"

"We mustn't let them see us!" He warns her as he pushes her down to a complete laying position as before. He turns his attention to the large rock they are in front of him. Thankfully the blast did not split it in half.

"What do you see?" She manages to ask.

"Sand. Dust. I hear voices." His face sweaty.

"We can not stay here for long. They will find us." She turns herself around as best as she could. She uses one of her hands to touch her open wound--and she winces.

"You're hurt. Not badly--" He assures in fear she might begin to panic underneath her orderly exterior. "…but you need medical attention."

She inhales sharply as a wave of pain stabs her and blinds all her other senses.

* * *

His computer screen fails to keep his attention grounded as he catches a gentle breeze of femininity.

"May I help you?" His charm connects between his eyes and his gracious smile.

"Justine Huntington--Baltimore PD, Homeland Security." She extends her hand professionally. "And you are?"

Tony rises out of his chair with ease. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo--NCIS…" His charming smile turns a bit cheesy now. "But…considering where you are standing, you already knew that."

She smiles to make a confirmation.

"So--" He claps his hands together. "Any particular reason why you would be here other than to mention my achievements back in Baltimore?"

"Which achievements would these be?" She finds his egotism instantly. "Lookin' to be a member of this team."

He waits. "Have you spoken with Gibbs?" He laughs. "If I know Gibbs, and I do, probably n--"

"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs." She states. "We've spoken, yes."

His eyebrows lift in mere surprise.

"I was told to meet him here for a follow-up interview." She looks over her shoulders. "Where is he?"

"Hasn't come in yet." Tony passes a look to McGee who has just entered the room. "Meet Justine Huntington--Baltimore PD, Homeland Security."

Tim puts his bag down and extends his hand. "Special Agent--"

"Probie McGee."

"Special Agent 'Timothy' McGee." He confirms, then gives Tony a glare. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for a new atmosphere."

Tony sees McGee's questionable look. "She's lookin' to shack up with Team Gibbs."

"Really wish you wouldn't put it that way, DiNozzo." Gibbs says as he makes an entrance. "Special Agent Jethro Gibbs." He extends his hand and firmly shakes hers. "Here for a follow up?"

"Certainly." She answers with a smile that leaks professionalism.

Gibbs leaves his place in front of her to retrieve her file that is nestled on the very top of one of his desk drawers. Before leaving his desk, he opens his familiar drawer and places his weapon and badge inside before slamming it shut. Picking up her file, he motions with his finger for her to follow him.

"I hope you picked her for plausible reasons." McGee says when he notices Tony eyeing her walk until she disappears around the corner with Gibbs.

"Ask the Director."

"What's the Director have to do with this?" McGee settles into his chair.

"I imagine--everything. She requested Gibbs meet with her." He can sense McGee's next question, so he supplies an answer without having to hear it. "I was eavesdropping."

"Think she'll be a great replacement?" McGee asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Couldn't tell ya, Probie." Tony sets his jaw--tightly.

"Baltimore PD--any relation?"

"No. I was Homicide."

"Sometimes units cross."

"Right--we never did." Tony clears his throat. "Think Gibbs'll break her?"

"Maybe." He reflects. "He never broke me."

"Must have been his off season when you joined the team." Tony says and leaves McGee with a pair of pursed lips.

"Well, time will only tell…" McGee logs into his email.

"Indeed, Probie. Indeed."

* * *

Director Shepard's hands become cool from the metal railing she is leaning on. Her overview of the offices below brings a feeling of genuine power.

"How is she, Jethro?"

"Sharp." He offers without a second thought.

"Sharp enough to fill that empty desk?"

His mind twists with thoughts and doubts.

"Don't know." He passes her a look. "Shouldn't you be making the final call?"

"Your input is important to me."

"That's not all." He mutters, callously.

"Despite what you think my visits mean, I have questions that need answers." She reminds him, but her words register vainly in his head. "Answers I will get no matter what it is I have to do."

"Thought this meeting was about Baltimore." He gets her back on target. "Am I taking her--or leaving her?"

"Taking her." She says quickly so there is no room to change her mind. "A three person squad isn't producing the best results. Each field Agent should have a partner-- a source of backup."

"Know that--Jen." He grows tired of hearing what he already knows. "Got to admit, three of us do a damn good job."

"No complaints." She holds her hands up in front of her. She sees the corner of his mouth turn upward. "So we have agreement?"

"Let me go welcome my newest team member." The thickness of his voice evident only to his ears.

* * *

Abby circles the woman before her. Her pigtails casually flipping in the air.

"Put it there, partner." Abby sticks her hand out firmly for the stranger.

Justine takes the offered hand, then speaks. "I was warned by Agent DiNozzo you are a hugger."

"I am. Only with people I like. I don't like you." Abby sees Gibbs staring at her. "I mean--I don't like you because I don't know you. You're new." She pauses. "Abby Sciuto, forensics specialists…extraordinaire!"

"Think that might have been a double negative, Abs." Tony mentions, then sees her glare and pointed finger entirely in his direction. "Double negatives are good. I can work with them." He silences himself quickly after.

"It is very nice to meet you, Abby Sciuto…etcetera…etcetera…" Jasmine catches a warning look from Tony. "I should find my desk now."

"You should." Abby is serious.

Jasmine turns to leave, Agent DiNozzo and Agent McGee following behind her.

"Caf-Pow?" She asks.

"Fridge." He throws a look past his right shoulder.

"She gonna be good, Gibbs?"

"Hope so, Abs." He leaves her with a forced small smile.

* * *

Tony slams his backpack into his desk chair. The bandages over his right eyebrow cover the tiny incisions that are burning the hell out of him.

"What happened?" McGee is the first to ask.

"Agent Huntington thought it would be worldly of her to show me her killer secret knife skills." He glares at her.

"I prefer 'awesome' rather than 'killer'."

"Yeah--and I prefer my 'usual' physique to be without 'bodily fluids'."

"Did I hear what I think I heard?" Gibbs feels uncomfortable.

Tony flashes McGee a weird look.

"Physique means body…bodily fluids in the body means…" McGee stops himself. "Just take it back. All of it."

"Consider it taken." Tony looks to Gibbs, but Gibbs is no longer interested. "I'm bleeding!"

"I'm sure I spotted three spots of blood before you were professionally patched." She rolls her eyes with a disgusted sigh. "You--Baltimore PD, really?" She sees his ego being bruised. "I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

"…The comment or the damage to my handsome face?"

Gibbs inwardly fights the urge to head-slap Tony.

"I originally meant the later, but I've changed my mind--I'm gonna go with the first." She finds her desk, past Tony's and McGee's.

Tony checks Gibbs and McGee to see if they care, but they both are staring at their own computer screens.

"I'm feeling suddenly ignored." He pouts as he bends and takes a seat.

* * *

The voice on his voicemail startles him. Her tired voice is asking for refuge though the words that pour from her lips hardly could be heard as being that. It is her pride--it is her natural way of being.

Director David slams his fist over his answering machine. Ripping the tape from inside it, he pulls the contents apart before throwing it in the trashcan nearest to him.

Picking up the phone, he quickly dials the number.

"Michael, Eli."

"Director." Michael addresses him professionally. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Ziva."

"What about Ziva?"

"I want her dead." Eli can sense the strength of the smog. "You are to leave on an arranged flight tomorrow morning."

"Where?"

"You will know in time."

Without another word or a formal goodbye, Eli puts the phone back in its base.


	13. The Return

**Chapter 13: The Return**

The walls of the shelter serve no comfort to her body or her insides. Her body is numb; her emotions frozen. Her heart is falling, into pieces, down--way down.

Michael keeps a steady hand on her shoulder, but not even his contact can warm any part of her. Her senses are no more; trapped inside, surrounded by the cold.

"It would not hurt to say something." Michael speaks to her kindly, his care very apparent.

"I'm afraid she has nothing to say." Lior joins the conversation. Taking a step closer, he keeps his cup of water steady in his hand. "She spoke of her father…often. I tried to tell her--"

"Do not speak as if I am not in the room." She says through a clenched jaw. Her eyes alone tell Lior to vacate the room.

"How could you not know, Ziva?" Michael's tone is slightly amazed. "The power your father has was never used for good--never."

"I thought things were different. That now…now there was a change in him." She wants to kick herself for being so foolish and sounding so foolish.

"Why?" He slightly squeezes her shoulder when he sees her losing focus. "You were in America, why did you come back?"

She holds her tongue. She wants to tell him she quit, but she knows she will never be able to tell him or anyone why she did.

"We were sure we would never see you working for Mossad again."

"I never did leave, Michael." She hopes to find a quick diversion to his question. "I was to share my time--keep my abilities, but add one." She licks her dry lips. "To become an investigator."

"Were you not able to do as the American's do?"

"Yes." She says it faster than she intends, but hopes that it is enough of an answer, though a lie, that it will satisfy him. "I returned home in hopes my father would allow me the chance to make him proud."

"He blamed Gibbs for the death of Ari." Michael's forehead creases. "Why did you lie to him, Ziva?" He sees her eyes growing with unshed tears. "Why did you protect him?"

She does not know what to say. She does not know how to answer.

"Ari took the life of one of his Agents--" She feels there is no logical way to finish the sentence. Not for a Mossad--showing a sign of empathy for a stranger is not part of their training. "He was unarmed!"

"You've stood by and watched unarmed--"

"Enough, Michael--Please!" She chokes back on a cry.

He takes his hand off her shoulder and places it in his lap. "I only hope his reason for letting you leave--pushing you back into the hands of your father--is a good one." He pauses. "That his care for you is as deeply as yours for him."

"Gibbs has nothing to do with this, Michael. I chose to leave."

"And he chose to let you." His tone is bitter.

"You can not fault him for that." She feels the sharpness of her words hit her though they were not intended for her ears. "You once fell to my father's feet. It is only now you feel differently."

"I will always kill, Ziva--but not you." His eyes soften. "I could not live with myself if I did."

"Then why are you here?" She looks to her lap. "My father has given you orders. If you fail to oblige, he will send someone for you."

He stands, then reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a visa and a plane ticket. Pressing it into her hand, he urges her to agree.

"What is this?" She stares at him, her eyes large and full of wonder.

"Return to America." His tone serious. "Find a way there."

"Are you crazy?" She waits to see any indication he is lying. "If my body is not returned to him, he will grow suspicious."

"He told me the blast was meant for you. He also reminded me that I could rid him of you anyway I pleased." He shrugs. "I will lie to him--tell him I had to dispose of your body somewhere in the desert. It was too risky and pointless to drag you back home."

She feels weird hearing about her own body being dragged through the mud, but stays silent as he continues.

"I'll do whatever it takes to satisfy his questions. You mustn't worry about me or what I will say, Ziva. Go. Take the ticket and go."

"He will find me."

"Not if you are discreet. The only way to find you is if he places you on his radar. With you dead he would not think of wasting his time, energy, or resources." He sighs. "Trust me as your father trusts me, Ziva."

She gives him a slow nod, the unshed tears that she has been holding begin to seep from her eyes.

* * *

A middle-aged woman with a slender figure and blonde hair stands tall waiting for her partner.

"Took you long enough." She says when she sees him arriving, his attire not appropriate for baseball. "You gonna change?"

"It's either this or nuttin'." He catches how it sounds, then smirks.

"Feeling frisky, are we?" She hands over the bat. "I've been practicing all this time."

"Ought to be able to knock 'em dead during softball next weekend." He clears his throat, winds up the bat, and gets ready. "Well?"

"Fast or slow?" She teases.

"Better start off slow--I'll be able to last longer." He turns his attention back to its rightful location.

"You trying to sell yourself short, old man?"

"C'mon Holis, get it started already, will ya?" He hurriedly tells her.

She smirks while activating the machine.

* * *

Cartons of Chinese food sit on top of a wooden table he made a few months prior to his newfound relationship. Chopsticks still lay inside the bag because wandering hands are rapidly trying to find something to sit on.

"Bench in the corner." He tells her, but she shows herself with it already in hand. "Take it."

"There's enough room for two." She says she takes his offering of chopsticks.

They begin their meal in silence until it becomes unbearable for her.

"A lot on your mind?" He shakes his head, his mouth too busy with chewing. "A new case?"

"Don't wanna talk--bout work." He says, then swallows.

"What'll we talk about?"

"Don't gotta talk." He stands from the bench, carton still in hand. "'Course you wanna--"

"No--don't have to." She is easy going.

"Good." He agrees easily.

It is twenty minutes later and dinner is complete. Gibbs perfects the letters of his daughter's name with a third coating of paint. Holis is near, so close he can hardly move his arm without his elbow bumping into her.

"Wanna back up?" He figures asking instead of telling is kinder.

"No." She stands her ground. She hears him sigh, placing the paint brush down on top of the can of paint. "Frustrated?"

"A little." He dusts off his hands. "What seems to be the problem?"

"No problem, just an offer."

"Being?" He squints.

"I've got a dinner party to go to. I've tried to get out of it, but I can't. I was hoping you'd be my date."

He looks to his feet before grabbing the paint and the paint brush once again.

"I guess you're declining my offer."

"Didn't sound like an offer."

"I could go alone, Jethro." She scoffs, somewhat hurt. "I've very well capable of going alone." She sees him working on the first 'L' on the boat. "…or someone else…" She waits to see if he has any reaction, but he does not. "You weren't kiddin' when you said this was casual."

"'We' said it was casual." He corrects her, his mind not entirely focused on the boat again.

"You said it--I agreed." She enjoys correcting him. "I figured after our first night we'd try to build a relationship."

"Can't build without a foundation." He mutters, his hand beginning to tremble a bit.

"I'm going to keep my own feelings out of this--but just to give me an idea, do you have any of your own?"

"'Course I've got 'em!" He takes her words offensively. "I'm human--aren't I?"

"There's no need to get defensive, Jethro--"

He throws fishes for the paint lid. When he finds it, he seals the paint and begins to climb the stairs. Once in his kitchen, he starts to rinse out the paint brush; Holis there--lingering behind him.

"You aren't running from me--"

"No, I'm giving you a clear-cut sign to get off my back." He regulates the water.

She sighs, then spots the time on her watch. "I better get going. There's somewhere I need to be before the night's over."

He hears her travel downstairs to his basement to retrieve her things. When she returns, he is leaning against the sink; his arms folded across his chest.

"I'll call you." She places a gentle kiss fully on his lips.

He nods, walking her to the door and letting her out. After shutting the door, he leans against it. With his arms still crossed, his head falls back against the door as a loud sigh escapes him.

Perhaps he is not ready for a relationship.

Perhaps he never will be.

* * *

Ducky feels the clean, but dry paint of the precious name. His heart strings continue to tug in several directions as he waits patiently for Gibbs to return home from a grueling week. His long lost family will forever live within him--as they should.

He takes a seat on a nearby bench; his hands clasped and resting in his lap. His tired shoulder droop forward a bit and his aging complexion molds into a peaceful expression.

"Go home, Duck." Gibbs is there, in a silent flash.

"I do not take kindly to you telling me what to do, Jethro."

"It's for your own good." Gibbs presses. He sets the brown paper bag on top of his work table.

Ducky's eyes will not move from their current position on the new bottle of bourbon that has been yanked out of its shelter.

Gibbs can feel his probing eyes, but instead of reacting defensively, he tries to be cheeky. "Got a taste for some?"

He stands. "Pass."

"Ah--well." Gibbs tosses his head to the side. "More for me."

"Your sulking is insulting." Ducky tries to grab his eye contact. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Duck--this really isn't the time--"

"Or place? Damn it Jethro, this is not a game anymore."

He takes a long sip, then smirks. "Stuck on the same page, are we Duck?"

The blood in Ducky's veins begin to pulse under his skin. He never once felt so infuriated with Gibbs' attitude and lifestyle.

"Haven't you seen that this has gone on long enough? Call Tel Aviv--meet with Ziva. Go to her--talk with her. Try to find a common ground." His hand reaches his throbbing head. "Do something about this massacre you've successfully created."

"HEY!" Gibbs' tempered finger shoots in the direction of his friend. "I didn't create this massacre--she did."

"Does that sound fair?"

"Fair's got nothing to do with it. She gave me hell--I gave her a way out."

"That assumption is one-sided."

"So?" He swallows more of the tarnished liquid. "I don't give a shit."

Ducky pushes his way into Gibbs' personal space. "Jethro, this isn't like you."

He laughs; coldly. "And you'd know? Jesus Duck, you hardly kept in touch before I told you what happened. Now--you keep comin' around. Trying to push me--trying to make me feel guilty for what happened."

"I only ask that you speak with her. She deserves that much."

"She had her chance." He bites back another stab by swishing around some bourbon in his warm mouth.

Ducky puts his hand over Gibbs'--the rim of the glass wets his hand with some of his troubled friends bourbon. "And I suppose…so did you."

The tightness in his throat makes him leave the glass on the table.

"Duck…" He waits, but the footsteps soon disappear and he is alone in his basement--in his empty home. "…Sorry…"

* * *

The midnight hour is close at hand. The airport is functioning normally. Throngs of frequent flyers mix in with those that choose to fly with a damn good reason.

Her hand clutches her single bag as she hails a taxi. In seconds one stops in front of her and she rushes inside the back as if someone is right on her tail.

"Where to lady?" The urban taxi driver asks gruffly.

"Motel. Cheapest."

He nods and pulls out from the side of the road.

Ziva soaks in the familiar city like bitter grapes.


	14. Goodbye

**Author's Note:** Woo-hoo, Ziva's a back in town. What's gonna go down? I haven't a clue--no I'm kidding, I've got some ideas buzzing around. What I really should be doing is my assignments--but this semester my priorties are just...well, unorganized and all over the place. I blame it on this damn winter--MAN, I hate the snow and the cold! I am totally an August baby in ever sense--VIRGO's BABY! Haha--that's enough. Anyway, I'm trying to update as much as I can, but work and school get in the way, then they drain me, and then I'm crawling into my bed at like 9pm. Apparently I can't stand up until 5am like I used to be able to do--but s'all good. Okay, now I'm rambling. I came here to say thanks to everyone for the wonderful and fun reviews. I hope to keep everyone that is reading interested. Catch ya'll on the flip side.**-GEEK**

**Chapter 14: Goodbye**

Rain cascades down the large windows of the Naval building. Everything is as it should be for the outsiders--but Team Gibbs mourns the loss of their own.

* * *

Abby labs serves as a safe haven for McGee. His emotions are allowed there--and Abby insists on it. She always has.

"Maybe it's a lie." Abby says easily, her own emotions bubbling out of control. "Maybe Director David's just being an asshole."

"I doubt it, Abby." McGee swallows, his hands holding his head. "Why does this always happen?"

"Timothy." She says.

"First Kate…now Ziva…" He feels rage deep within him. "Gibbs is a bastard."

Her eyes widen at his words. "McGee!"

"What?!" His eyes cold--almost heartless. "It's the truth. He's a fucking bastard." He pushes himself out of her chair.

"McGee stop it, you know Gibbs loves the team."

"Gibbs is a liar. A fucking bastard--and a liar." He can feel himself slipping deeper into troubled waters with Abby, but he does not care. Months of uncertainty and anger are getting the best of him. "If he loved us he wouldn't lie to us--and he wouldn't have let Ziva walk out of here to die."

Abby's anger is evident in her face, but she keeps her balled up fists to herself--for now.

"It's her own fault!" Abby's eyes are fire. "She's the one that left--put us all through the wringer."

"I'm sure Ziva had a reason."

"Are you implying that Gibbs knows something we do not?"

"I'm telling you he knows something!" He yells at her for the first time ever. "Damn it Abby, get out of the air and back onto the ground." Her mouth falls open at his request. "You always give Gibbs the benefit of the doubt. You're always on his side."

"Ari killed Kate." She reminds him bluntly. "Trusting Ziva was a mistake." She takes a step closer to him. "Now get the hell out of my lab--and stay out!"

"Fine by me." McGee storms out of her lab without ever looking back.

* * *

Inside the elevator, the air is tense. McGee keeps himself to one side of the steel box while Gibbs stands a little over the invisible line.

"McGee--"

"Don't talk to me." He warns his superior for the first time in his life.

"There something I should know about?" Gibbs can see the urge to kill in McGee's eyes--an emotion he feels uncomfortable with, especially for seeing it in this particular Agent of his.

"You did this. You killed her." His voice cracks, the emotions becoming too loud to keep buried deep down inside. "It's your fault she quit. It's your fault…she died. You--you killed her." Tears burn the brim of his tired eyes. "And you don't even care."

"I care McGee." Gibbs is sharp. "Too much. I care…too much." His heart twists in his chest. "I-I…" He mentally shakes himself and gets himself back in order. "Suck it up." He sees McGee's tears fall and so he stops the elevator.

"First Kate…now Ziva." McGee scrubs at his eyes.

Gibbs grabs a hold of him and shakes him violently. "Damn it McGee, get it together!" He shakes him once more. "Do it for the team."

At the mention of 'team', McGee finds incredible strength and shoves Gibbs into the metal doors. "Get your fucking hands off me!"

Gibbs feels the urge to strike him, but Director Shepard's words come to mind…

'_Consider this your second warning.'_

"Watch it, Special Agent McGee." Gibbs shakes it off, turns around and sends the elevator back in motion.

**

* * *

**

The parking garage is silent enough to hear a pin drop--or perhaps a coin or set of keys. This is why Tony left these items inside the dashboard of his car.

Creeping around a tower, he hides himself and waits for the familiar footsteps.

Gibbs turns the corner, finds his car, and peels out of the parking garage like a mad man.

"Anthony." Ducky greets his awaiting friend.

"Ducky." Tony offers him a hug; a gesture quite unknown to come from him unless it is used as a means to get close to a 'woman'. "How you holdin' up?"

"Not so well." He decides the truth would do him good. "Devastated, actually."

"Same…" He sighs heavily. "Don't tell Gibbs that…not now, not ever."

"I'm having a hard time speaking to him." The anger is nearly fresh. "…I'm afraid it'll never be the same from here on out."

Tony becomes confused, but does not address it. "What'd you need to see me about?"

"There's something you should know, Anthony…not here…" He looks around their surroundings. "Drop by tonight. I'll have some dinner."

"McGee could use some company--can he come?"

"No. Just you Anthony--please."

Tony sees the seriousness in Ducky's face and agrees without a second thought.

"I'll be there."

* * *

The living room of the Gibbs' residence is neat, but empty. Since Shannon and Kelly passed, he never did find the desire to redecorate or keep the décor they had. A simple setting was the only way he could carry on throughout his days. A clutter-free atmosphere made it easier to breathe.

He hears his cell phone ring, but does not answer it. It is Holis--he knows because they had plans for a quick dinner and a movie.

He rather be alone. It helps him relate to the feeling Ziva must have felt moments before she died at the arms of some probable mad man.

* * *

The fire crackles and pops, but its heat does nothing to warm the man sitting in front of it. His steak already cold, his bourbon already gone. Why bother trying to satisfy a feeling that can never be satisfied.

His front door clicks open and he expects to see his one of his usual visitors, but instead is greeted by silence. Turning around, he sees his Senior Agent with a tear-stained face.

"DiNozzo?" He asks, but knows damn well who it is.

"I know." Tony's voice can hardly be heard over the roaring fire.

"Okay…" Gibbs turns and slips out of his wooden, creaky chair.

"I know about you and…Ziva." His face contorts. "You…How…I…"

Gibbs feels his stomach in his throat. The bourbon making it hard to keep his lunch down. "DiNozzo…" He says quickly, "Tony…it isn't how it sounds."

"Ducky told me everything. It's exactly how it sounds. It's exactly how it happened…" Tony feels the pressure building in and around him. "Why didn't you just tell us--your team? We would have understood…we…would have tried to help."

"Damn it…" He wants to kill Ducky with his bare hands. A feeling he never once felt for his friend. "She wouldn't let me. She wouldn't even talk to me about it."

"She's dead now." Tony can not take it anymore and so he finds a wall to lean against. "She died knowing…thinking…we didn't care."

"It isn't our fault." Gibbs hates himself for feeling anger at a time like this. "She chose to play hardball. She chose to keep it a secret--and me the fucking fool that I am--I agreed. I agreed because I…I felt as if I wasn't on the same page as her, she'd find a way to make me regret it." His throat twists with thick emotion. "…I guess I'm regretting now--now and for always."

The air shifts, making Tony stand tall and approach his Team Leader. Extending his fist, he punches Gibbs right in the mouth. "The only thing you should regret is losing your entire team." He watches Gibbs protect his already beaten face. "You should have listened--for once in your fucking life Gibbs, you should have listened." Tony raises his hand to hit him again, but Gibbs takes his fist and twists it--causing Tony a standard amount of pain.

"I didn't ask for this." Gibbs still clutches Tony's twisted fist and arm. "I didn't ask to have you fucking screw up on surveillance!" Tony's eyes widen. "That's right, DiNozzo. You're a fucking part of this, too! You and McGee. The whole fucking team is at fault."

"You lead a team of fucking screw-ups, Gibbs." He throws it in his face.

At that statement, Gibbs lets go of Tony and then shoves him away from where he is standing.

"Get out of my house."

"Don't you mean team?" He grits his teeth. "Just like you told Ziva?"

"She left me no choice, DiNozzo. Once you cool off--you'll understand my reasons."

"I'll never understand this." Tony gives him a threatening look before fleeing his home.

**

* * *

**

Director Shepard watches her previous lover right before her. His face wounded in an assault she is aware of.

"Jethro--"

"Don't sugar-coat it, Jen."

"I'm sweeping this under the rug--everything." She looks towards her paper shredder. "The Branson case…Ziva…everything that has to do with everything."

"Why?" It is such an easy question.

"Because I care about you, Jethro." Her eyes soften. "Your team might not know it, but I do. You wouldn't ever willingly put any of your Agents in danger…nor would you willingly take advantage of them." She sees his troubled expression behind those stunning blue eyes. "In time, they will come around."

"Yeah--to put a bullet in me." He shakes his head, disgusted with himself. "I lied to them, Jen--to my team. To the ones…that work with me…every step of the way."

"You kept your word to one…" She tries to ease his pain, though she knows it does no good for him now. "You kept your word to Ziva--and in a case like this…that's all that really matters."

He opens his mouth to say something, but his feelings catch him directly in his throat. Closing his mouth, he looks down at his lap quickly before looking back at her. "What'll I do now?"

"Go to your team. Soothe whatever wounds you have created." She offers him a warm, close-mouthed smile. "They're more angry with the fact you lied to them than they are about anything else."

He gives her a nod before leaving her office. Outside of her door, he leans his back against it--feeling nervous for approaching his team for the first time.

* * *

**Six Weeks Later**

Long, slender fingers attached to rough, strong hands work avidly to construct another boat structure inside the empty space. Its previous owner waits inside a storage bin near the water; eager to set sail when the weather breaks.

Holis greets him with a hug from behind. Her chin resting above his slightly-crunching form.

"Nice surprise." He jokes.

"You knew I was coming." She clutches him a bit tighter. "On another mission I see…"

"Uh huh." He grabs a new tool and places it where he needs it to be. "Dinner?"

"Upstairs."

"Bring it down."

"Thought we'd make it saw-dust-free tonight."

He smirks at her meaning, then rises completely to stretch his legs completely. She lets go of him and tries to find a bottle of his famous liquor. "No bourbon?"

"Decided to give it a little break…" She does not know of his dependence on it.

"Wish I could hear the same thing about these boats you keep building…" She thinks to herself and smiles. "You would have been one hell of a wealthy craftsman back in the day."

"So they tell me." He teases.

She watches the new-found sparkle in his eye. It never was there when she met him, but now it seems to shine whenever she finds him alone in his basement.

"It's a boy."

"What?" His eyes grow wide.

She holds back a small laugh. "The boat. It's a boy--Kelly's already in storage."

He registers what she really means, then shakes his head slowly. "Girl."

"Another girl." She raises her eyebrows a bit. "Should I be honored?"

"No." He sees her grow slightly offensive, but in a flash it is gone. "Maybe next time."

She nods before grabbing his hand and walking slowly up the stairs with him.

"You aren't seeing anyone else are you?" Her tone playful.

"It's a friend." He slows his steps, only slightly. "A good friend."

Holis takes his answer seriously--not giving it another thought. She can live with a boat named after a friend.


	15. Reflections

**Chapter 15: Reflection**

It is Saturday morning. 2am.

* * *

He is alone with his work. His usual adventure into the land of reports and other work related activities happens in the after hours. It's his niche--forever and always.

One of those 'web sensation' video sites covers his computer screen, but his focus is nowhere near it. Instead his eyes focus to the desk diagonally across from his. And it is at this very particular moment, he takes time to reflect…

* * *

"_This is so 'Usual Suspects'." He listens to Agent Huntington annoyed tone of voice, then continues, "Gibbs even looks a little bit like Gabriel Byrne." He catches her attention, "He's an actor who boards a mysterious ship like this…" and so the discussion continues._

"_So am I." Agent McGee leans forward from the backseat and agrees with Agent Huntington's confusion. "And…I saw the DVD twice."_

"'_Sound of Music' confuses you, Probie."_

_

* * *

_

He blinks once. He pauses. He blinks again. He did not see the blast coming. Neither McGee nor Huntington. Possibly, never Gibbs. Within a flash, their leader was down--transported to a vacant and private hospital room awaiting--something, anything.

His computer screen goes into sleep mode, but even its muted click does not create a distraction. Gibbs' empty desk is more clear than it had been five minutes before.

He remembers the hell. Creeping into Gibbs' room at night--sitting with him, staying with him. Waking up to find that he had not moved an inch since the night before. His body exhausted, his eyes pained.

He could hardly take it. Ziva leaving shook the team, now their boss had been in mental pain--something Tony had no idea on how to fix or understand.

He sighs, wiping his brow though there is no sweat. Just a simple action to feel his own presence.

Things had changed. Gibbs retired to become a Pirate--or so Tony insisted. His glorious days spent in Mexico held no real purpose other than to pretend he still had a life. Gibbs without work was butter without bread--it was hard to swallow and tasteless at that.

When he returned though, weirdness sprang forth in such a manner it boggled even Abby's mind. It was the mustache--the new form of a 'bad hair day'. Thankfully it lasted the length of a short nightmare--yet hard to ever be forgotten by the team.

His hands travel behind his head and link--pressing into his stylish and properly maintained, soft dark hair.

With bad change came good change. In time Gibbs not only ridded himself of his mustache, but he found someone to spend his downtime with as did Tony. Perhaps downtown for Tony was far-fetched, but the time he was 'forced' to spend with Jeanne quickly became time he simply longed for.

Naturally his thoughts circulated around Ziva--his missing friend and partner. The only woman to have step foot in his life to make him realize how idiotic he sounded at times. Yes, she kept him grounded, even for the little time they spent together. A true friend indeed, with one hell of an ability to back him up during critical moments of critical cases.

At times he felt guilty. He knew of his lies to Jeanne, but he knew of his loyalty to his job--and to the Director. She placed him in charge until Gibbs surfaced again and he took such an incredible amount of pride in doing so.

And now with the death of Ziva, the void he felt himself begin to fill, had drained into a bottomless pit of nothingness. In previous times it seemed dream-like. Physically she was not there, but mentally and spiritually he could detect traces of her along through his travels. Without her living, the dream has ended--and the nightmare begins.

* * *

McGee fishes for his backpack while his two partners carry on with their usual pointless conversations.

"Sometimes I'd like to think I am a reincarnation of Cary Grant." His NCIS hat riding low over his eyes. "Handsome. Witty. Romantic…and one hell of a great dresser."

"Seems to me a number of actors from that decade fell along those lines." She slams her door shut and looks around for Gibbs. "Where's Gibbs?"

"On his way."

"Most likely." McGee adds as he throws his backpack over his shoulder. "Shall we?"

"What's the rush? This is a co-op." Tony's eyes burn a little. "At the result of sounding like an ass--"

"We're used to it." McGee calls from behind Tony.

Tony stops abruptly and feels McGee crash into him. "…at the result of sounding like an asshole, I'm not one for joint investigations."

"Not your call, Tony." Huntington tells him. "You aren't Team Leader anymore--you don't get to tell us what to do or how to do it…or construct anymore of your stupid campfires."

"Hey." He inhales sharply. "Those campfires created magic indescribable."

"They wasted time."

"They created magic!!!" He hollers, making his point to make her accept his opinion. "Now--let's all shut the hell up and get to it."

McGee and Huntington roll their eyes, but follow Tony as if he still is their Team Leader.

* * *

The Three Stooges stand completely still while Gibbs holds out a carton tray holding three additional coffees. He looks to his Senior Agent, then to the team's Computer Genius, then to their newest Probie.

"HEY!" Gibbs hollers at all three of them, causing them to jump back a few centimeters. "Ya gonna take it?"

"…Is it poison?" Tony asks, but still reaches for his own cup. "What's the special occasion, boss?" He takes a sip and alerts the other two to each take one. "You're not suffering any kind of mental injuries--again, are you?"

Gibbs chucks the empty carton in the nearby trashcan. "Consider it a treat."

"It's Monday…could this be an every Monday morning sort of treat?"

"No. This is the first and last treat--period." He warns Tony more than the others.

Tony takes offense to that hurtful statement, but shakes it off and happily sips his coffee. "This is nice and sweet--you're not goin' soft on me are ya, boss man?"

Gibbs sticks his nose directly in Tony's face. "What if I am?"

"…More power to ya…" He flashes a bright smile, which the blazing sun hits.

Agent Huntington inhales the fresh sent of new-coming spring air. Her expression full of energy and readiness.

"Beautiful day." She says while standing in front of McGee, sipping her coffee.

"Yes. Yes it is." He inhales sharply, an extra delightfulness in his expression.

Tony puts on his serious, yet characteristic news anchor face, "Welcoming our new, flower-y pair of meteorologist's, Jasmine Huntington and Timothy McGee…" He catches their glares and erupts into a fit of laughter until he feels a big hit to the back of his head.

"Zip it, DiNozzo." Gibbs says while walking past his comical Agent. He looks towards the openness of the park that has been shut down due to investigation. "Anyone get a call?"

"Nope." McGee checks his phone again, just to make sure.

"I say we forget about these NCIS rejects--and get down to business." He catches the offensive look on Agent Huntington's face. "What?"

"Agents and Officials from other Agency's aren't NCIS rejects." She corrects him in a snippy tone of voice.

"Some are." He says flippantly.

"NCIS isn't the most important Agency." She turns away from McGee and takes a step closer to him. "How would you know?"

"Uh--I had to hire you didn't I?"

"You didn't hire me. The Director requested me." She rolls her eyes. "If you were in charge of picking a replacement you would have filled that empty desk with a Playboy Bunny."

"Which one?" He gives her a cheeky grin. "And for your information, I was put in charge." He tosses a look to Gibbs. "Wasn't I, boss?"

"Let it go, DiNozzo…" Gibbs clears his throat, then tastes his coffee again--his focus still lingering on the green grass.

"Will do boss…soon as Agent Huntington acknowledges we are the best."

"I'm not going to boast about NCIS just because I work for them."

"You have to." He feels offended. "It's a rule."

She smirks. "I have a hard time believing that."

"It's a DiNozzo rule." He shakes himself off a little. "Learn it. Learn to use it. Learn to live it. Learn to be it."

"Shut up, Tony." She is tired of speaking to him and it is still early morning.

Gibbs stuffs his cell phone back in his pocket and joins his team.

"Stuck in traffic. Ought to be here any minute." He informs them.

"Boss, don't you take pride in being an NCIS Agent?"

"DiNozzo, I take pride in knowing my team has the ability to move on to more important things rather than bullshit at a crime scene." He whacks Tony in the back of the head for the second time. "Get to work!"

"I thought we had to wait?" McGee looks to Gibbs.

"Don't bag and tag anything, just scan the area--get a feel until they arrive."

McGee nods. "On it, boss."

Gibbs clears his throat once more. The breaking of the cold air saying something for everyday allergies. Downing the rest of his coffee, he throws it in the nearby trashcan and follows his Agents.

* * *

Gibbs notices the familiar face of the deceitful CIA Agent instantly. Fixing his NCIS cap, he clears his throat for the third time. "Agent Kort."

"Gibbs." Kort is as disgustingly formal as possible. "Find anything?"

"Possibly." Gibbs looks past his shoulders and sees McGee kneeling down to get a better look at something. "Didn't expect CIA."

"Problem?"

"No." Gibbs offers a miserly grin.

"I suggest your people get to it." Kort notices DiNozzo bickering to Huntington about only god knows what.

* * *

Tony comes over to Gibbs. His camera hangs from his neck and his hands hold the device, ready to snap the hell out of anything that could lead to evidence.

"Body?"

"Not that we can see…or find." Tony snaps a photo of Gibbs and is rewarded with the look of death. He notices Kort in the shadows; waiting. "What's with Uncle Fester?"

"He's the co-op." Gibbs sees Tony's knowing look. "I didn't know."

"Neither did I. Director gave us this case."

"She's good for that." He is anything, but sarcastic.

"What's this about?" Tony lets go of the camera and lets it hang from his neck.

"Drug Trafficking." Gibbs feels himself grow uneasy, but he keeps it hidden under his NCIS jacket and cap.

Tony wait's a moment and finds his composure. "Branson?"

"Possibly." He shrugs, but chooses not to make eye contact with the younger Agent. "Part of me hopes we don't find anything."

"A crime's been committed." Tony is confused at this declaration from his leader.

"I know that, DiNozzo--but with him hanging around…" He casually looks to Kort, still in the shadows waiting. "…he'll take it straight to the FBI."

"You hate the FBI." Tony receives a head-slap. "And…I'll never forget it?"

"Continue the investigation." Gibbs says as a way to shove Tony back into investigator mode.

* * *

On the outskirts of the park, Team Gibbs stands. Their surroundings show tall and small trees. The shrubs are extremely bushy, while the tall uncut grass brushes against their knees.

"I'm thinking…" Tony closes his eyes and opens them. "Blair Witch Project."

"I'm thinking one more movie reference from you, DiNozzo, and I'll put my boot up your ass."

"What about TV Shows and Documentaries?" Gibbs' piercing blue eyes stab Tony in every part of his body. "Shutting up now, boss."

"Think we'll find a body here?" McGee questions.

"Possibly." Gibbs takes his cap off and scratches his head. "Something's not right." Agent Huntington moves away from DiNozzo who is making her uncomfortable because he is sniffing in her personal space--on purpose. "Why would the Director send us here to find a dead Marine and he not be here."

"Someone could have moved the body." Tony mentions, then gives Agent Huntington a wink to increase her uncomfortable state of being.

"In broad daylight? Nah--too risky." He puts his cap comfortably back on his head. "Wish that bastard was standing right here." Gibbs turns to look over his shoulder and sees Kort lingering in a different set of bushes. "Bet he knows what happened."

"He might. He has been known to lie." Tony snaps a picture of Huntington.

Gibbs grabs the straps of the camera that are around Tony's neck and pulls him closer to his face. "McGee!"

"Yes, boss?" McGee appears next to him with an evidence bag in hand.

"Take this." He pulls the camera from Tony's neck and head, then hands it to McGee.

McGee hands Tony the evidence bag, while Agent Huntington sighs with a content sigh.

"Make sure you do a good job, Probie." Tony fights the urge to stick his tongue out at McGee, who is now walking around with a satisfied smile.

"Split up. Meet back here in five--ten minutes." Gibbs says, then begins to head in his own direction.

* * *

Kort sits on top of a tree stump. It seems to have been cut for some reason. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his head. A yawn threatens to escape him, but he forces it out of his system knowing that all he needs is one yawn to make him sleepy for the remainder of the day.

A woman stands before him. Her arms are crossed, her coat is murky green and casual. "Agent Kort."

He raises his head and smirks quickly at his colleague. "Took you long enough, David."

"I ran a red light." She sighs. "…and a stop sign, switched lanes without signaling, passed someone in a no-passing zone, went past the speed limit, and…nearly took a bench off the sidewalk--but I did not…still, I was pulled over by a police officer." She pauses for a moment. "…He gave me a warning."

"Better than last week."

"Yes." She sighs once more. "Who is our co-op?"

"Old friends of yours." He waits to see any reaction, but finds nothing in her expression changing.

"Mossad?" Her stomach tightens as a mental image of her father flashes through her mind.

He stands from the tree stump, "_NCIS_."

* * *

His boots crunch the leaves under his feet from their dryness and the amount of frost that has developed during the drop in temperature during the night. With one foot balancing on a rock, the other stays grounded to the earth while his hands come to rest on his waist. His mind contemplates the case at hand and what it could all mean.

From behind, she observes him. His stance the same as she vividly remembers when she lets her mind wander. Previous crime scenes begin to play like a movie inside her mind and it turns on a burning need to participate.

Her hands clasp in front because she is nervous. It has been a year and a half since she has seen or spoken to him--or anyone else from the team.

After the wind stills and the rustling of the tress and leaves become quiet, he senses someone near. Turning around, he plants his two feet steadily on the ground.

He blinks; not sure what to say.

"Hi…Gibbs." She does not wave at him or take a step forward. Instead, she stands as still as she possibly can while her hands stay clasped.

Her only achievement is being able to look him straight in the eyes.


	16. Realizations

**Author's Note**: Hey there guys, glad to see more reviews coming through. This chapter was kind of long in creating. I'm not sure what's the reason for it--probably I'm just tired and feeling kind of sick since last night. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. Catch ya'll on the flip side.**-Geek**

**Chapter 16: Realizations**

So many words left unsaid. So many could-have-been actions long forgotten. The minute she boarded the plane to Tel Aviv, her anger began to disintegrate. If her personality lacked the trait of being stubborn, she would have turned directly around to face him.

Writing was an option, but she found that to be incredibly cowardly; so her pen never did hit the pad. A year and some odd months had passed without any means of contact. Considering a phone call vanished within seconds and before she could think of returning to make contact in person, her father had found work for her. No more time to even think how to achieve a decent conversation with Gibbs. No more time to address any sort of _feelings_; if in fact they were _real_ feelings to begin with.

There should have been a grace period. A vacation should have been in order. A few days off should have been put into effect. Any means to keep them apart would have done, but with that sort of bold action there would have had to have been a bold reason--a reason she made him promise to never tell.

Things would have been better said than left unsaid. One conversation could have began the process that would slowly patch whatever working and friendly relationship they did have. Such a simple task that was ignored, leading everything to literally spin way out of control.

Her time away was not thoroughly enjoyed. Crawling through the literal mud and battling the sickening blasts from suicide bombers was everything, except pleasant. The realness of her situations on a day to day--secondly, minutely, and hourly basis sent her mind into complete alert mode while her heart grew a shield of stone. She had traded teams--torn her gloves off to fight barehanded and dirty. She had become Mossad, _again_.

And Mossad's simply do not _play_.

When she remembers the familiar terror that hardly shook her, she feels disgusted with her choices. One _personal_ hit from the Americans and her only thought was to return home--to her father. She knew her father could do no good since he saw pure evil, but he was family. The meaning of family, good or bad, is an honorable acknowledgement of a person's character.

If Ziva has anything left, it is her character.

A joke in itself. With a sliver of hope and a head full of confusion, she turned to her last resort. How fitting as prior to her decision to appear before her father, she was given her last resort by Gibbs. _Quit_--to leave and never return to _his_ team.

The respectable Marine ripped her apart with his words. A knife through her insides, from front to back--back to front--in and out--all around. One by one her emotions began to shut down. Only anger resided in her so when she felt his longing--his wanting for her to turn around and meet him half-way inside her apartment building hallway, she held back and let him walk away from her…

She hated seeing him the following morning. His face expressionless. His posture, rigid. Declaring his rejection to her the night before was enough--seeing his body language estimate the same intention kicked her straight in the gut.

She's no fool. She knows she deserved it. Gibbs was right; His decision to step in had been better than some drug lord turned deranged stranger. How could it not? Gibbs _cared_.

But the setting was wrong. The joining of their bodies was _dirty_. This was not the start of a beautiful relationship nor would it ever had been. Branson made sure that his free time was spent perversely-wisely instead of tilting an old, wooden chair back and counting his stacks. In seconds his personality shifted and a monster came out--seeping through his sweaty pores.

Their time was now whether either was ready or not. Whether her hopes for a continuing relationship with Gibbs were written in the stars. The bastard twisted her interpretation and preyed on her--through Gibbs--making sure that she fully understood the situation at hand and what needed to be done in order to stay alive. He found her feelings, somehow, and he used them in his sick fantasy.

Her hope had been eliminated, so her sensibility was stripped from her thought process. Without her senses, her emotions spun out of control. She took jabs at Gibbs. It was easy. She saw him everyday--the temptation was too great. Badger him, make him pay--make him hurt because she hurt. It was easier to blame him rather than blame herself even though neither were at _real_ fault.

He offered to talk. He tried to offer his understanding. He admitted to his own turmoil. He wanted to be there for her--for them and whatever it meant for their questionable future. He wanted to share their pain and to rejoice in their success when the nightmare would end--but she only refused; made it completely impossible for any of his consideration to help them. His feelings weren't questionable because she never allowed him to share them with her.

* * *

She hears the click of his front door. It seems louder than she remembers. Her feet slow to a stop as she holds her breath. After a minute or two, she is back on the move. Closing the door softly, she hears unfamiliar sounds coming from his basement, but they are not threatening enough to send her back to her car with a 'good' reason. Taking a deep breath, she follows the path to his basement door…

* * *

He knows someone is there--watching him. The person is behaving awkwardly because the relationship he has with this particular person is awkward.

The creaking of the steps finally fall silent when her feet hit the hard, concrete floor of his basement. She is here and here is now--but she has no words and she certainly has no actions. When he turns to face her, the crispness of the blue in his eyes makes her throat tighten.

"Your door was unlocked…" She registers he is waiting for more. "…As I am sure you know…yes, you always keep the front door unlocked…" She pushes her foot slightly forward, but soon takes it back to settle in the same spot she has been standing in. "Say something Gibbs, please."

He crosses his arms over his chest protectively. "I'm all out of words, Ziva."

"Don't say that. Please." She swallows as her pulse quickens. "We have lost so much time."

He thinks about her words and how honest they are. "Yeah--suppose so."

She takes a bold step forward, but the gap between them still keeps them an ocean apart. "I wanted to call--"

"But you didn't." His posture becoming slightly agitated at this point.

"A letter would have been out of the question."

"I can read." His memory flickers to the infamous note that ended up in the hands of one Mr. Anthony DiNozzo. "'Course I'm no DiNozzo." He gives her a smirk, but it not a polite. His smirk is full of anger and distaste. "You find the time to give him a couple of words--but me? Nah--I'm not as important."

"You do not understand."

"I understand." His eyes never leave hers. "Thought you would have sooner or later, too."

"I was in a terrible place."

"SO WAS I!" His calm exterior finally comes undone, but it is due. So much more is due though the past held such a great amount of vacant space. That space should have been acknowledged. That space should have been used wisely. That space was taken for granted. _He_ was taken for granted.

Her forehead creases as she tries to figure out what his method was for pulling himself through the upsetting incident.

"We thought you were dead!" He uncrosses his arms and makes advances to the imaginary, protective box she will not step out of. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"About my father and his plan to have me killed." She swallows; his closeness making her feel different. "I came to the states knowing my father would be alerted of my death. I assumed Director Shepard had been in contact with him and I knew that word would finally reach you…and the team." Her gaze sweeps the floor. "It was not to cause anymore pain, I promise you--it was only to survive the distant hands of my father." She waits for him to say something, but he only continues to stare at her. "The only way I could stay protected was to join the CIA. A friend of mine…Mossad…he has connections. They were willing to conceal my identity so long as I…"

"Played dirty." He disapproves of this, but it is no longer his place to _teach_ her better. His eyes shift dangerously. "How's it feel to play dirty?"

"It feels better than being Mossad." Her opinion true.

"What about NCIS?" His honesty is present within, but the essence of a 'dare' laces his tone of voice in hopes his feelings will be unclear to her eyes.

Her once hopeless eyes looks almost hopeless. "Are you offering?"

He turns from her now, stalking back to his boat. "There isn't a place for you, Ziva." He knows his words are hurtful, but her said-passing and her reappearance with sprinklings of their unresolved past puts him in a mood. "You had your chance."

"Fair enough." She says it quickly, but it is sincere. She understands his position now, thought it was _then_ that she really needed to do the understanding. "Promise me one thing--"

"I don't make promises." His hands wander over the smoothness of the wood. His satisfaction for his progress registers only on the inside.

"Then could I ask you to please keep word of me being alive away from my father?" Her voice threatens to crack, but thankfully she manages to recollect herself in hopes that when her turn comes again, she will successfully have a full-hold on her emotions.

He turns to look at her; his express trying to be neutral though mind is racing with uneasy visions of what could happen. "If your father wants you, he'll come lookin' for ya--" He clears his throat. "It's inevitable."

"I would rather not think in that way."

"I'd rather you not have returned." His dislike for Kort riding his better judgment. "Kort's nothing, but a liar."

"I'm only doing what I can, Gibbs." She tries to get him to understand because suddenly she yearns for his understanding.

"I know what that's like." His eyes flash with his hurt, but he turns from her before she can detect it. "Deal with it."

"I'd like to think I am doing a good job so far." Anger flickers inside her smoky eyes, but it is not enough to spark any wild fires within her. Not here--not now.

"More power to ya." The sandpaper biting more into his skin than into the wood.

"I should leave." She says. Her mind erratically trying to make sense as to what her main purpose was for showing up and if she even achieved anything she originally planned to achieve.

"Out the way you came." He mumbles.

When he hears the sound of his front door closing, he drops the sandpaper on the ground. His fingers rub against his blue jeans and his mind quickly remembers where his fresh bottle of bourbon is located.

He leans against his work station. The brown liquid slowly splashing from left to right inside its jar. As the first taste deliciously burns his throat, his eyes scan the outlined line of his newest boat's name.

"Ziva." His head falls and a heavy sigh escapes him.

_"Please, Ziva…don't shut me out. Not now, not here… _

His hand rises to lay over his eyes. His glass of alcohol has found its way to a temporary resting place on top of his work bench. After a few moments, he inhales sharply and removes his hand. Behind his lashes, the dam breaks and his eyes turn to blue rivers of liquid.


	17. Requests

**Chapter 17: Requests**

The Director's mouth opens and closes as orders spills from her painted lips. Her voice calm, yet demanding. On this particular day she wants to play the 'professional' Director she seldom shows to anyone. A ridiculous act Gibbs can not accept even if only for a humorous relief.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Sure." He agrees with her because he knows what she wants, but he also refuses to accept it. "…But it doesn't matter, Jen."

"It matters, Jethro."

"We know who he is and where his next stop will be."

"It's too risky."

"So is every other decision in _our_ lives." He speaks for himself and his team. "Branson's got it comin' to him."

"And you want to be the one to give it to him?" She crosses her arms protectively over her chest. "Do not create a conflict of interest."

"I hardly think taking out this son-of-a-bitch falls within the usual lines of what a 'conflict of interest' is."

She grins. "I rest my case."

"Look--this bastard fucked up the entire team." He sees the doubtful question in her eyes and decides to ignore it. "He deserves this. I deserve this."

"Gives a whole new meaning to 'taking one for the team', Jethro…" She finds his determination admirable, but her care for him makes her worrisome.

"Call it what you want." He has given up on trying to explain to her what it is he feels and needs when it comes to Branson. "My team's responsible for taking care of him."

"You kill him and you will face the consequences." Her warning not meant to be mean-spirited in anyway. "You are a lead investigator in charge of bright, young Agents--not an assassin."

"Don't need a reminder, Jen." His voice low.

Several moments pass between them, but neither knows what to say next. Then the phone rings and Cynthia alerts her boss of her mandatory conference call.

"Jethro, I need to take this."

He shrugs. "Take it."

"Alone." She indicates her 'mandatory' need for privacy with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll leave…" He rocks back and forth on his heels. "…So long as I get what I want."

Her other eyebrow lifts and meets with the other. "What is it that you want?"

"Backup. Resources. Space." He waits. She registers his simple requests; then looks to him to continue. "That's it."

"Fine, Jethro--you will have your backup and your resources--but within reason, and your godforsaken space." She reminds him he does not need to raise the ever-rising-bills of NCIS any more. "Leave, now."

"Every want comes with a un-want." He reminds her.

She crosses her legs under her desk while slipping on her glasses. "What is it that you find undesirable?"

"Sharing duties with the CIA." He turns from his position in front of her desk.

"You can not end their involvement with this case!"

"No--but you can." He leaves her with a smug grin.

* * *

Her shoulder's are more tense than usual, but it makes sense because nothing is as usual as it once was. The passing of time seems to have done more damage than it has done good. Her fingers tightening and loosening every few seconds in order to keep herself in every line imaginable.

"Get out of here." He tosses his request to her in a lightly manner as a way of telling her she is wasting her time, but she makes no effort to move.

"I strongly suggest you rethink your request."

"Request has been made." He tosses a hand-tool next to the half-empty bottle of bourbon.

"Request can be denied."

"Request _won't_ be denied." His voice edgy, his eyes a darker shade of blue. "Director'll see to it."

Her frustration gets the best of her. "Damn it Gibbs, do not do this!"

"Request denied." His ability to play fair has retired for the rest of the evening.

"You are only doing this to spite me."

"Now, now, now…" His tone teasing.

"This isn't a game, Gibbs."

"I've known that." Daggers hit her through his quick, intense gaze. "I've been playing a one person game. All this time. I know the rules."

"You are taking this personally."

"You're kidding me." He huffs around a lifeless chuckle.

"That is not what I meant--"

"You meant it. Every bit of it--and you're right. I _am_ taking this _personally_. There's no other way for me to take it." He feels the burning need for a sip of bourbon, but he pushes it aside.

"You are letting the past cloud your judgment."

"It's my turn."

Her insides smolder, but her eyes fight to keep her emotions under complete control. Control is important. Control is all she has to keep her standing on her own two feet--but he's here. He's mocking her good intentions. He's matching her every positive with his every negative. He's making it hell like she once had.

"I MADE A MISTAKE!" All her control lost in a single second.

"You did." He keeps the truth sharp and accurate. "A big, fucking mistake, Ziva." He pauses for a moment, "And I had to pay."

"So did I. There is no way you could know where I was and what I was doing." She baffles him with some more truths.

"Doesn't take a genius to figure out just what you were up to. What you were doing--who you were killing." His words are so vile--so cold. "Not even I could change a Mossad."

"Mossad served you well." She takes his comment as a direct insult. "Mossad saved your life."

"Only to rip it apart afterwards." He scoffs.

Her lips quiver in the blink of an eye. "Branson did this. I will not take the blame."

"It isn't a pretty shade, is it?" His voice dripping with sarcasm. "Learn to live with it."

"I never meant to hurt you--but you hurt me, too."

He heaves the tape measure against the nearest wall and storms over to stand directly in front of her. "You wanna talk about hurt? You hurt me the moment you decided to carry the weight on your own."

"I panicked."

"I shattered." His crystal clear eyes alone emphasizes the importance he finds in his own feelings. "You put me through hell."

Her mouth opens because her mind is telling her to say something in return--it is rightfully her turn, but she feels frozen in front of him. Her mouth opening and closing every few seconds without a single reason.

"Don't let me leave you speechless."

"M-my apologies will never be enough, will they?"

"I've yet to hear one." His expression blank. "Don't expect me to fix this."

"I have acknowledged my wrong-doings. I have come here, last night--right now, to try and reestablish what we once had." She is using her hands--moving them around some-what frantically. "I can not fix this alone."

"You're discovering what's already been discovered--by me!" He grinds his top row teeth with his bottom row teeth. "And now…now I'm not sure I want to fix this. I'm not sure _we_ can."

"Tell me how you feel, Gibbs."

"That's a novel idea."

Her eyebrows lift slightly. Hope lighting-up her face in the tiniest way. "Will you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Her loud sigh hit's the old walls of his basement. Suddenly she feels a dampness and it creates a chill that travels up and down her spine. "I am finding it to be pointless to try."

"And I'm finding you to be overstaying your visit."

She feels open and broken at the same time. "I always took comfort in your door being unlocked."

"That comfort doesn't belong to you anymore, Ziva. That comfort belongs to my team…" His eye twitches this time because even he is starting to realize his frigid attitude, but the biting temptation continues to push the words out of his mouth. "You left my team."

"YOU TOLD ME TO!" He is making her crazy.

"You were acting unreasonable."

She laughs sarcastically. "I guess I'm supposed to feel as if my actions came about because of my own idiotic feelings."

"I never said that." He leans closer to her. "Don't twist my words. Don't make me out to be the bad guy."

"You're creating that image yourself." Her eyes grow darker. "You've changed."

"It happens." His voice gruff.

She walks to the side of him and turns, itching to climb his stairs faster than when she came down them a short time before.

"Sadly. Yes."

* * *

The bar feels different. It isn't the music or the lights; it's the other members of Team Gibbs that are not present. Whether they are being true to their reasons or not, there really is no way for Tony and Ziva to know. The only thing at face value is the fact they are sharing a corner booth all to themselves--the first round of drinks balancing on a tray; untouched.

"After you." His voice chipper and his eyes alert.

"I am not sure I have ever seen you so excited, Tony."

"You've never _had_ me, then." She gives him a questionable look, but soon his overbearing grin makes her register his intent. "Interested?"

"Perhaps you should have a few, first." She raises her drink to her lips and takes a healthy sip to indicate her suggestion.

"Don't mind if I do, Zee-vah." His tastes buds come alive at the first contact of his dark liquid. "Beats bourbon."

Ziva feels a wave of disappointment cruise through her. Suddenly the awareness of her limited company simply confirms whatever doubts she has been feeling. Yet still she finds the courage to ask.

"Where are the others?"

The bottom of his glass finds the top of the table slowly. His eyes are locked onto hers because he wants to give her his undivided attention. He is the only one with her, after-all.

"Prior commitments." He is sugar-coating because sometimes the truth had a hard time coming out of him. "Abby's got some wild concert…McGee's…probably marrying a Level 52 Sorceress--"

"It is okay to tell me the truth. Actually…" She sighs. "I know the truth--they hate me."

"They don't hate you. They're just having a really difficult time with your return."

"And my leaving?"

"Oh--we're all still a little bitter about that. Some more than others…" His shoulders lift to form a little shrug. "Consider me near the finish line."

"I am sorry, Tony." She finds it incredible easy to be blunt--and to him. "For leaving--but, there had been an incident where…where…"

His hand finds hers on the table. "I know, Ziva. We all do." He sees her face turn an embarrassing shade of light pink. "Them not being here doesn't mean they don't understand--because they do, they're just…not able to fully grasp why things couldn't be resolved."

"I wouldn't allow it. It had nothing to do with Gibbs." She feels her heart racing. "I made a mistake--a big one, and because of it I can accept the fact they rather not speak to me. I was momentarily blinded at first and soon I found myself longing to return to NCIS…to the team, but I had been assigned a mission. I could not disobey."

"I think…" His face shifts from serious to warm and affectionate within seconds. "I'm happy you're alive…and that it's actually okay to make mistakes. You're only human."

"Sometimes I wish I could see myself that way." She laughs her confession off, nervous for what his reaction might be, but when she sees care within his eyes she realizes that he can sense how she is feeling. "Sometimes I find it hard to believe that there is room for me to fail."

"It's the training." He watches her mouth open and close, but no words come out. "Mossad." He does not need an answer; her fallen gaze has confirmed his statement.

A comfortable silence falls between them. The casual glances between them serve a comfort more to Ziva than it does to Tony. The extra shade to his already colorful sense of humor seems to brighten her spirits, if only a little bit.

"Tell me what it was like, Tony." She looks at him; helplessness is the only thing present on her face. "Tell me what happened while I was gone."

"Promise to head-slap me if I ramble on like Ducky in autopsy?" The slant of his lips makes her warm if only a little bit. "What?"

"I am picturing Gibbs head-slapping Ducky…"

"And?" His eyebrows raise in antipaction.

"I can't see it." She warms at this thought, but it is not enough to warm this biting cold she can't seem to shake.

"Well, you see, there was this raging storm!" His hands join in to create better action, "And we realized that the three of us were Pirates looking for gold and other national treasures when suddenly--" He the look in her eyes and breaks into a cheesy grin, "That isn't what really happened. What really happened…" She sees pain in his facial features now. His eyes are more moist than before. "The team fell apart. One by one we shattered in our own way. The tension in the air clung to everyone--like a second skin." It is becoming too much for him to relive, but he continues, "The Director got involved--as I'm sure you would have guessed. Talked me into working against Gibbs--and I enjoyed it."

"Tony--"

"I'm not finished." His voice thick with emotion. "I used McGee to help me clear whatever limited communication we did share--which was fine, but he never knew of my dealings with the Director. When he found out I lied, he wanted to get back at me--and I didn't blame him."

"Gibbs wasn't exactly Mr. Congeniality nor was he ever--but I clawed at him because it was suddenly in my job description--"

"The Director made you actually spy on Gibbs?"

"Thoroughly. Little did she know I already talked of my doubts of Gibbs with McGee prior to her calling me into her office." He uses his fingers to rub against the palm on his other hand. "Gotta tell ya, all this Double Agent stuff's only easy in the movies."

Ziva feels worse now. She wants to tell him to discontinue the telling of this nightmare, but he begins again…

"We carried on as a team--but things were different. Things _are_ different."

"When did my replacement turn up?"

"A little over six weeks ago." He tastes his beverage once again.

"That is quite a long time to wait. Is she a fine Agent?"

"One of Baltimore's finest."

She remembers his resume. "Were you allowed to pull any strings to get her on board?"

"Are ya kidding me? The only thing I can pull strings on are my shoe laces. She was sent in by the Director."

"She must be top ranking."

"She gets the job done."

He pauses to watch her face. All night she has hardly shown any type of long-lasting pleasant expression. He is having a hard time reading which emotion she is feeling or about to feel--and there isn't really much he can do about it until she tells him.

"Anything the matter?" He tries to give her a little shove in the direction he wants her to go in.

"When I…w-when I left for Tel Aviv I felt as if I were damaged in some sort of way. Once there I…I felt as if my healing had become. Coming back here…running into the team…it shows me on how selfish I acted."

"Ziva--"

"No, Tony--I left everyone damaged." She holds her heavy head. "I do not blame them if they never speak to me."

"Ah, come on--they're going to speak to you."

"In the way they once did?" She is not convinced in the least. "Gibbs hardly does."

His eyes grows dark because a part of him slips into defensive mode. "Give the man a chance Ziva, he's been through a lot since you've been gone."

"It is because of me--I know this, Tony."

"That isn't what I mean, Ziva…" The wheels begin to spin out of control in his head now. This matter is personal and it is not his own to begin with--but he's DiNozzo and if he knows something, he'll itch to tell it unless it means jeopardizing anything to do with the work place. "Gibbs was injured in a blast on a ship…loss his memory." He sees her attention focusing only on him; her empty glass sits in the middle of the tray in the middle of the table.

"Woke up to remember his family…Shannon and Kelly. Lost all these…years of his life--in just one, quick blast." His struggle begins again. "No one could make sense out of it. I did my best to bring him back--to make him understand what he was now doing for a living--NCIS, being a team leader--but it wouldn't take…at first…"

He sees her question forming in her eyes and before she has a chance to ask it, he tells her, "He remembered you next, Ziva. That seemed to be the only most recent event in his life that he could remember."

She inhales sharply; trying to consume all of this newfound information with an understanding apperance, but inside she is hurting.

"That is how you knew."

"No, Ducky told me." He leans in closer to her, but they are still a respectable distance apart. "Gibbs came to Duck for advice before you left. He made Ducky promise not to say anything, but then you left--and soon Gibbs and Ducky began to clash. Privately, of course--but during this time Gibbs was acting funnily." He sees anger flash within her eyes, but soon it disappears and is replaced by sadness. "Ducky meant no harm--you know that Ziva."

"I told him not to tell." She feels a stab deep down instead. "He said he never would."

"He was in a dark place. You can't fault him for that. He needed somebody--anybody to talk to." He finds himself to be grasping for reasons to help the man he once had a vendetta against. "Come on you know Gibbs--he's not gonna open up to a stranger. He rather share it with someone he's loyal to if he wants to share anything at all."

She sighs, tears wanting to fall--but she feels they are not needed. "I'm afraid the positions have flipped."

"What exactly do you mean?"

"Gibbs and I--we've traded sides. I no longer fault him, but he faults me, for everything--even the team."

"He's probably just being Gibbs--the hard-headed bastard he takes pride in being. He can't honestly feel as if you returning means nothing."

"It only serves me right, Tony. I deserve what it is he is doing."

"Don't let it tear you away from us, Ziva--not again…please. I like having you back--I wouldn't want to see you go all because Gibbs hasn't figured out how to accept you once again." He pauses for a second. "In time he will fully come back to himself."

"Time is so valuable." She tells him. "Time passes so quickly."

"His new beginning may be just around the riverbend." He grins at his Disney movie reference.

"That isn't what I mean, Tony." She swallows; her throat suddenly gone dry. "It will only be time well-wasted."

She can not take the uncertainty in his eyes, and looks down--breaking contact.


	18. Mad Man

**Author's Note: **Hey there guys, happy to see even more reviews. They are such a nice surprise to read. I wish I could say more or give a head's up to upcoming chapters, but I'm never quite sure on what will be next in each new chapter until I actually sit down to write it. So I guess I can only say that I am down-right grateful for feedback and I hope I continue to entertain you in the chapters ahead. Later Days**--Geek.**

**Chapter: Mad Man**

One successful drop was all it took. There it was, a brand new world full of corruption. The fresh, new outlet for a wandering soul that had nowhere else to roam. One successful drop was all it took--what a brilliant way to live.

Kyle Branson went against the grain since he was a curious teenager. The late night parties at his best friend's parents estate were unfiltered and unsupervised. Loud music, lowlifes--and drugs.

Naturally his parents provided him with the usage of rehab. Unfortunately, his growing ability to better himself as a liar made him make those that cared for him believe that he was on a clear path to change his life. Yes, Kyle Branson knew exactly what to say and when to say it to keep the proud expression on his father's face and the twinkle in his mother's eye.

No siblings--he fortunately was an only child. His actions from the developing stages of his life showed he was incapable of setting a good example.

A passion for everything imaginable. A guilty pleasure for high-end automobiles and elegant estates gnawed at whatever better judgment he had left. Drugs were the answer because drugs brought in the money--and the money…the money was paradise.

At the age of twenty-five he declared his favorite color as being 'green'. It was the color of money--the crinkly paper that satisfied all of his burning desires. It supplied him with security and an insatiable feeling of power. And it spoke volumes to those that wanted in the business--the helpless souls desperate for their own security or a way out of their ever-growing debt.

He was a money man. His drugs were his product, his buyers his slaves, and their money his friends. His entourage was as shifty as he was so he never could trust them as far as he could throw them, but some came pretty damn close. And it were moments like these where Kyle would trade gloves and operate in an entirely different way--killing.

A world of corruption showed him a number of things. You go for what you want and if anyone tries to stand in your way--kill them. Dispose of their bodies and never leave an inch of evidence. Use your head--be the criminal and be the investigator at the very same time--so you'll cover your tracks and you'll finish the day with a satisfied smile.

A Prince in the enchanted land of drug dealing. His true identity was known all around the globe, but his ability to be quick and discreet left investigators from state to state and country to country, defeated. Kyle had willingly turned himself into local police departments, the FBI, and the CIA plenty of times before. He found there to be no reason to run--because he was just that good. He was just that crafty. He was just that brilliant.

An egotistical man indeed. His weathered, handsome face and the money he consumed made the women he came in contact with--want him. For his money. For his charm. For his delicious good looks. And he took them. He took them because they were there--for the taking.

It only happened on the day that NCIS decided to stick their noses where it did not belong. A dead former Marine--big deal. He was slain for ruining a drop which cost Branson a week's salary. With his money--it hardly mattered, but for the principle of the situation, he took it to heart--and he killed the Marine.

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was the biggest mistake Branson had ever encountered. Branson considered himself to be the best at leaving the scene of a crime without leaving a single trace--but Gibbs took away his self-praise. That is why Gibbs paid for it. Not with money, but with sex.

Branson took the insult straight to his gut like a swift, forward kick. And it made the wheels in his head come to a screeching halt as he quickly shifted gears--and he indirectly took what was there for the taking.

Special Agent Ziva David served her purpose well--until the listening device was detected and the camera she wore were founded before Gibbs' were. Then came the separation from her partner--and the torture. Branson split his entourage--a few for her and a few for him. They were tied up, beaten--and talked down to. They were belittled because their ability to find Branson during a drop was a success--and he frowned upon those who were able to achieve success.

Success was his--and no one else's.

The option to kill was a way of payment, but Branson hadn't ever gone as far as taking the life of a Federal Officer of the law. With that type of risk came uncontrollable heaps of obstacles and control is what he wanted. It was what he needed. Without it, his empire and everyone in and around it would suffer to some degree. He would never go out in such a way. It wasn't his style.

So he took a moment to contemplate a way to ensure the NCIS Agents that he was a powerful man--and he would continue to have control no matter the place or the situation.

And on that particular day, he ruined the bond between two Federal Agents as his delightful power and control flew to new heights--leaving his sense of satisfaction in a fresh, new blaze of glory.

* * *

Ducky enters the familiar living room. It is not his place to look around, but he can not help but take in the emptiness. Sighing to himself, he wanders downstairs in hopes he will find Gibbs leaning into his newest creation. As he lingers near the top, he sees a blonde woman standing and leaning against the wall; arms crossed and waiting for the Marine.

"Good evening." Ducky is the first to speak as he finishes descending from the wooden stairs. "Gibbs isn't here."

"That he isn't, Doctor Mallard." She offers a look of invitation. "Could always stick around and keep me company."

"That would be rather pleasant--and please call me Ducky." He puts his trench coat on one of the wooden benches Gibbs created. He sits near his overcoat and looks at her. "Any idea where our Marine could be?"

"I assumed he was working that new case at the office--but here you are…" She finishes with a shrug.

"Maybe he has stopped off for dinner." He watches her point to the bag of takeout. "Oh…perhaps a team member is in need of his assistance."

"Possibly." She does not seem upset or worried, just a little tired of having to wait around and put off eating. "I'm famished."

"You could always begin your meal…Jethro wouldn't mind."

"Care to share?" She offers with a smile.

"Don't mind if I do." He offers one of his own.

* * *

An hour as passed and there hasn't been a sign of Gibbs, but the two sit comfortably around each other inside of Gibbs' plain living room.

"Have you always wanted to be in your line of work?" He asks kindly.

"I've always wanted to serve a purpose--I know that. Once a teenager I realized that this was my calling." She reflects on her life a little. "I'm happy to say I've gotten more of what I wanted out of life so far."

"I would have to agree." He remembers his life experiences fondly. "It is something to cherish, isn't it?"

"Indeed Doc--Ducky." She sips a bit of her bourbon. "Jethro seems to always have a supply of this tonic."

Ducky gives her a tense look, then takes a sip out of his own glass.

"Is something the matter?" She is slightly worried.

"It really isn't my place…" He can see her placing her glass down; ready to insist he continue. "…My, look at the time--"

"Is what you are going to tell me have anything to do with Gibbs not being here yet?"

"No--because I am not going to tell you anything." His eyebrows slant. "It just isn't my place…"

She leans back with a sigh. "I've got to tell you Ducky--if you aren't the one to tell me, don't expect Jethro to. He's a tough cookie."

"More like a brick wall." He murmurs before taking another sip of bourbon. When he swallows, he notices her waiting eyes and realizes he has to tell her something. "I just wanted to tell you that you've done Jethro some good."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Naturally." He grins. "It is rather nice to see Jethro uninhibited--or rather having the thought that he is."

"I'm sure his past relationships resulted in this side of him as well."

"Yes, but as he gets older it appears differently…if you know what I mean." He pauses for a moment. "I'm sure none of us ever wanted to think he would be alone the rest of his life…so we thought about it, but we never voiced ourselves. Now that you've arrived…we've all been given a little ease." He sees she is about to laugh. "What is so funny?"

"How about you, Ducky--anyone special in your life?" Her smile wide because she feels good to know Gibbs' friend approves of their relationship.

His grin is coy, yet mysterious. "A gentlemen never tells."

* * *

Timothy bangs on the door that will soon lead him into the sloppy abyss that is Anthony DiNozzo's bachelor pad. It is pizza night, a new experience that makes him slightly nervous, but curious.

The door opens and Tony greets him with a cheesy grin, "What's the password, McGeek?"

"Why would there be a password to get into your apartment?" He pushes his way inside while saying, "…it's a junk yard…"

"It's a work of art." He points to large bundles of DVD's laying on top of every part of his living room area. "Did you bring the pizza?"

"What--you told me you were going to be the one ordering the pizza." McGee looks to the kitchen area. "You didn't order it?"

"Relax Probie, it'll be here in five minutes." Tony rolls his eyes. "Make yourself at home--gotta check on my newest web sensation."

McGee looks at the cluttered couch and the wobbly kitchen chairs. Finding the armrest of the couch to be visible, he perches himself on it and calls to Tony, "You're an idiot for making those videos."

"My face is a blessing!!!" He hollers.

"More like a nightmare…" McGee crosses his arms and purses his lips; deep in thought about everything that is happening in and around his life. "You talk to Ziva?"

"I had drinks with her last night." He walks into the living room, having finished checking his video stats. "You didn't show."

"I had something to do."

"No you didn't, McGamer." Tony says it more disgustedly than intended. "She was really hoping you'd come."

"The others didn't show." Tim becoming defensive. "Besides, it's not our job to go to her--she should be the one to come to us."

"I never considered spending time with a friend to be a 'job'. Don't be so hard on her, Tim. You know what happened."

"Same thing can be said for Gibbs." He lowers his gaze and looks at the Weekend At Bernie's dvd box. "It'll just take me some time, I guess."

"It'd be better if you spoke to her as soon as possible."

"I didn't come here for a lecture, Tony. I came here for pizza--so either you give me what I came here for or I'm leaving."

Tony sees how uncomfortable he is and decides to change the subject. "If you touch a single slice of my pepperoni pizza, you'll arrive to work tomorrow with a limp."

McGee rolls his eyes, but the tense feeling inside of him begins to fade.

Tony turns to gather some napkins and paper plates he surprisingly has in stock and worries that McGee, Gibbs, and Abby may never come to accept Ziva again.


	19. Protective

**Chapter 19: Protective**

Anthony DiNozzo felt that when time would pass everything, more or less, would soon fall back in order. As soon as his undercover work would finish, he would be able to wash his hands clean as if nothing had happened in the first place--but things changed.

Jeanne Benoit was the best obstacle Tony ever had the pleasure of getting over--but that was when it was all a game. Now there were more blocks than bumps and sooner or later his head would begin to feel just how complex the entire situation was.

Finding the time to sleep with her wasn't a problem after-all. All Agent DiNozzo needed was a little pep talk from the Director in order to get his pants on the ground. Now that they were there--so were the rest of the puzzle pieces.

Ziva came back from the dead--so to speak. Her presence seemed to only have given him a good shake while the other team members chose to ignore her. Maybe the feelings she brought out of him were there to send him a message.

He was confused, but he held a tight grasp on the many situations. It was a piece inside of his talent bank. He had the amazing ability to divide his mind in several sections at once while keeping his story straight with everyone involved; such a clever way to use the human mind.

Not a liar, but a lover. He loved himself, which is a correct way to feel in order to gain and hold self-respect. Of course he went overboard every so often, but perhaps that created an element of his already-apparent charm.

He loved his team. Ducky was like his grandfather. A wealthy supply of wistful riches, passed on and experienced through the years. Ducky's words were always true when spoken. His mind brilliant enough to be left to science--or transferred into a portion of Tony's mind as he had always secretly wished. Ducky made him feel important and cherished--unlike anyone had ever before.

The bouncy steps of Abby always ran laps in his mind. She was his pick-me-up whenever he needed one. His own personal supply of Caf-Pow. Her kind words always brought out his smile and her infectious hugs always made him feel wanted. She was the sparkly star on top of the Christmas Tree--his guiding light into a carefree atmosphere.

His playmate. The one nearest to his pranks, his comments, and his desk. McGee was the sibling he never had. Though younger in age McGee reminded Tony of maturity he sometimes lost sight of. And on some of Tony's darkest hours, alone without a designated driver, McGee had appeared to safely bring him back home. McGee served as his sideman, always available to help even when he was never to be thanked for his services. If anyone absorbed the meaning of what partnership is from Gibbs, it was McGee--and it never made him jealous. It made him proud.

The structure of the rugged man was his idol. If Gibbs' was bottled and sold in a respectable collection of musky fragrances, Tony would have drenched himself in the intoxicating liquid. His team leader had the finesse of Bruce Wayne with the alter-ego of Batman--and he was his Robin. With every shadowy glow of the bat signal, their feet would travel into some of the darkest places ever known to investigate.

But that was _then_--and this is _now_.

* * *

Her apartment was nothing special. It was average for a single person who hardly spent much time at home. She had no furniture, besides a bed and a chair because work had sucked away all of her free time. She did her job and then she helped anyone else who needed help. She was the CIA's most valued prize these days. Whatever they wanted from her--she gave. It was everything she could do in order to keep her secret safe.

Gibbs was right--she was playing dirty; up to her elbows in lies and filth.

She knew about Kort and the questionable case he hid so well. She knew it dealt with an arms dealer, but whenever she tried to get a better look--he reminded her that he knew about her and all the things she did not want her father to know.

She had no choice. She had to back-down. She had to give in. She had to take what she was given--she had to play dirty. And the feeling was all-to-familiar to her.

* * *

Gibbs' feet pound against the few top steps of his basement stairs until he notices his visitor. "What're ya doin' here, DiNozzo?"

"Taught we could talk for a few minutes…" His hand touches a piece of wood on Gibbs' boat and it slightly shifts. "Shit."

Gibbs appears soundlessly and glares at the younger man. "Don't touch."

"Right--sorry boss." Tony moves out of his boss' way, but still feels the twisting in his gut. "So, we could talk?"

"Not in the mood."

"What if it's important?" He is persistent because he can not take another night without a decent amount of sleep.

Gibbs studies his Agents faces for a few minutes, "This better be good."

"I happen to think it is." He skips a beat. "It's about McGee."

"What about McGee?" Gibbs begins work on his boat for the umpteenth time; reminding himself to fix the slight damage DiNozzo has recently caused.

"He's holding a grudge about everything that happened…between the team."

"Seems like he's handling it pretty well…" He flashes back to his semi-violent interaction with McGee inside the elevator in the near-past. "There something you know that I don't?"

"Naturally." Tony smirks at his neediness to know about everyone's business. "He didn't come to the bar the other night…" He grows nervous and rubs the back of his neck. "Neither did you…or Abby…"

"I had something to do." He uses the same excuse McGee had the night before.

"That seems to be the new catch phrase this year…" His attempt at humor falls quickly. "I just think it would have been nice if the three of you would have showed."

Gibbs stays quiet. He is listening, but he does not want to say anything. Not even a simple word.

"I know Ziva's created problems, but I hardly think it was her intention to that in the first place. Come on boss--you know we all make mistakes." He ends with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

Gibbs only stops to grab a different tool and fix the problem that DiNozzo created on his current project.

"She feels as if the both of you have traded sides--as if she is at fault this time around and I really--"

"How many issues are you going to bring up while being here? Damn it DiNozzo, I'm not a fucking shrink. I can't help these problems--they just are. Now leave it alone!" Gibbs' tone is sharper than a machete.

"I thought you'd want to know if something could be done to get everyone back on track…you can't deny how we're all feeling."

"For once, I'd like to." He is bitter.

His words hit Tony harder than he expected. Maybe he is tired from lack of sleep, but he starts to become cranky and annoyed with Gibbs' attitude.

"Maybe that's why Ziva left in the first place. Did you ever stop to think that maybe she was feeling something?"

Gibbs' hands still, but he leaves his back facing Tony. "I did."

"I'm not talking about a 'part' of you?" His comment is crude, but it is intended.

His neck snaps and he faces Tony with wild eyes. "Neither am I!" The tool crashes to the ground. "I didn't get some sick thrill out of what happened. I'm not you--DiNozzo."

"That's rather cold, don't you think?"

"What's cold is you sneaking around behind my goddamn back--with Ziva, McGee, and the Director."

"What would you have rather had me do?!" Tony steps closer to him. "You buttoned your lips so tightly and left us all in the dark. We had a fucking case to close and all you thought to do was with-hold evidence."

"The condom had nothing to do with getting Branson. You damn well know it and so do I." Gibbs is facing him, their faces so close to each other. "That was nobody's business, but _ours_."

"Thought Ziva was the one that wanted it left unsaid." Tony's eyes squint. "Who's the one telling the lies?" Gibbs doesn't answer. "Where'd you put it?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The condom. Where is it?" Gibbs' eye contact breaks and he steps back a little. "You can tell me now--the Director closed the case. What did you do with it, Gibbs? Tell me."

Confusion strikes Gibbs full-on. "What's it to you, DiNozzo? The Director forgot about it--we all forgot about it. Don't let Ziva's return turn you into an idiot."

"I deserve to know what happened." His voice cracks. "After being told by you and McGee that I fucked on surveillance even though I know I damn well I did not fuck up--I deserve to know everything that happened."

"It's not your nightmare. Leave it alone, DiNozzo…" Gibbs' voice cracks. "…please…just leave it alone."

He steps closer; crowding Gibbs. "It still bothers you…doesn't it?"

"Scram, DiNozzo." His eyes meet his. "NOW!"

Tony's spirits fall as he realizes that his idol has failed him--again.

* * *

Ziva uses a carpenter's pencil to properly stencil the new name into the side wood of the boat. She knows she has no business being alone in his home, but she is there because it is the only free moment she can find before she has to succumb to terror only the CIA can create so beautifully.

Unfamiliar footsteps greet her and she rises from her position in front of the boat. Taking a moment to catch a breath, she extends her hand. "Agent David."

"Lieutenant Colonel Hollis Mann." She gives the stranger a firm handshake.

Ziva can sense the woman before her is wondering, so she offers more information about herself. "I work for the CIA."

"Gibbs allows the CIA in his home?"

"He is my former boss." She hopes the simple answer comes across as the full truth that it is. "I was helping with something."

"This is _his_ boat." Hollis is becoming protective at the very second. "What could you possibly be doing with _his_ boat?"

"Fixing something--really, I…" The air is becoming even more uncomfortable. "You are with the Army, yes?"

"That's correct." She folds her arms over her chest. "I'm not here on duty."

"Neither am I." Ziva looks down at her dusty pants and t-shirt. "Just here correcting something."

"Mind telling me what that something is?"

"I'm not sure I should…" She does mean to sound rude, but it is too late. "What is your purpose here?"

"Why don't you answer that first."

"I just did. I told you who I was and what I am here doing. Now it is your turn." Ziva feels her patience slipping.

"I already stated my name--and my 'purpose' here is to see Jethro for dinner."

Ziva inhales sharply at the usage of his first name. She knows now that this woman in front of her, with her elegant blonde hair is indeed not here for duty, but for pleasure--but refuses to not give the woman the benefit of the doubt. "Are you a friend of Gibbs?"

"Oh…I think we've gone beyond that…" She does not say it to be crude, but only to get her point across clearly and simply.

Now the silence falls and neither woman, especially Ziva, knows what to say to each other.

"Will he be arriving soon?" Ziva is the first to break the stuffy silence.

"Another five minutes or so…" Hollis is not completely sure, but hopes she is correct. "Want to show me what you were doing to _his_ boat?" She is more demanding at this point.

"Fixing something." She is not taking it very well--the crowding of this woman is bothering her on a few levels she never knew existed before.

"You already said that--what is the something you are fixing?"

"I do not think it concerns you." She inwardly scolds herself for acting this way in front of Gibbs' lady friend, and tries to make it better. "I promise you I did not cause any harm to his boat."

"Not sure I can trust the CIA."

"Did you develop those feelings because of Gibbs?" Ziva is curious now.

"Maybe." The tall, blonde shrugs. "Mind if I take a look around the boat?"

Ziva wants to open her mouth and protest, but she knows in doing so--it will only create even more friction between the two.

Hollis wanders around the boat, but can not see the fineness of the lead-traced letters on the boat. Walking back around a second time, she looks to Ziva for more information. "I don't see any difference."

"Just helped with smoothing some parts of the wood." Ziva slips the carpenter's pencil inside her back-pocket discreetly. "Is that alright with you?"

"I don't see why it wouldn't be." She plays it smartly, knowing that the person that will come forth with the truth will be none other than Gibbs himself. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

"I wasn't invited." Ziva tells her; confusion on her face.

"Then perhaps you should leave." Hollis' statement is as frigid as she can possibly make it.

Ziva gives her a slight nod. She does not let her words dig too deep though some of her wounds are still fresh. Instead, she grabs her cell phone from Gibbs' work table and walks over to the staircase. "Will you tell him I was here?"

"You bet'cha." Hollis assures her with a curious gleam in her eyes.

* * *

Gibbs parks his automobile and unbuckles his seatbelt. Picking up his cup of coffee, he takes a sip and then exits his vehicle. Ziva creeps up behind him, quietly--with a face of stone. When he turns, he is startled a little. Nothing to violently shake him, but these days he finds himself slipping just a tad bit.

"I would like to speak to you."

"A third time?"

"I will continue if you will not let me say what I feel needs to be said." She watches as he turns from her and sighs; annoyance clear. "I do not like having to do this."

"So the feeling is mutual."

"You aren't even trying, Gibbs."

"It's your turn." He leans against his car, folding his arms across his chest. His coffee cup sitting on the roof of the car.

"This will never work if you do not meet me half way. Tony has tried--why is it that you and the rest of the team can not seem to do that?"

He looks past her as if he is not listening to a word she is saying.

"I've only been able to express how I feel to him since I have returned."

"That supposed to make me feel better?" His eyes grow dark at this obvious information.

"What is the problem?" She knits her eyebrows. "He took my apology."

"He'd take anything from you Ziva--anything." The minute the words leave his mouth, he feels the tingling in his fingers--he wants to head-slap himself for putting down Tony. "Out of my way--" He comes to a complete stop when she steps in front of him.

"I was inside--before--I fixed your mistake." She looks away from him quickly. "I saw that you were planning on naming your boat after me and I thought it would be wise if you changed it…" She looks back to him. "I named it Kelly." He throws his head back and sighs heavily as he feels emotions he is not ready to have right there in his driveway. "I thought it would be mean something far more important to you…she was your daughter."

"I already named one after her…" He inhales sharply. "I only planned to name this one after you."

"Why?" Her voice small.

His eyes are growing soft, but soon they transform back to their coldness. "Because I thought you were dead, Ziva!" He darts around her, pick up his cup of coffee--leaving her there in his driveway without a single idea on what to say or do.


	20. Man Down

**Author's Note: **Hey guys--how is everybody? Just dropping a note to say that there's several 'breaks' in this chapter and they are there only to show the difference in the two locations. I hope I did it correctly--or correctly enough and I hope it isn't too confusing the way I did it. If it is, I apologize now. Also, I've been playing around with several ideas in my head when it comes to this fic, but I'm not sure if I should go ahead with them or if I should start coming to an end soon. I know the way that I am--I could write on and on...forever and that is why I'm at a crossroad. An area to finish the fic is nearby, but at the same time there is still a bit of room to prolong the ending. I'm not sure on what I want to do, but if anyone that is reading has an opinion or perhaps a request for a chapter, I will take it into consideration before I decide on what I want to do. With that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Later Days--**Geek**.

* * *

**Chapter 20: Man Down**

His cell phone rings loudly in the hollow hallway. Grabbing a hold of it, he flips it open and answers the mysterious caller.

"Always on time, Gibbs-y."

"Part of my training." He takes pride in his Marine training.

"Did your training ever cross into screwing your partner?"

"Not until I had the displeasure of meeting you." Gibbs' stomach begins to hurt him.

"I find that to be a lie."

"And I find you to be a fucking bastard." Gibbs' voice is hushed as to not attract any other Agents lingering around the hallway.

"Let me see, let me see, let me see…" The sound of shuffling papers rings in Gibbs' ears. "Director Jenny Shepard…once an Agent…once your lover."

Confusion hits Gibbs full-on. His eyebrows knit and he tries to form a comeback--but he can't seem to get any words past his lips.

"Isn't that right, Gibbs-y?" He snickers. "Didn't think I knew much about you--did you?" He inhales easily. "I know a lot about you that you don't know…about your team, too."

"You hurt my team--I won't think twice about killing you."

"An investigator turned murderer--and people thought you were a straight-laced Marine." His laugh is greasy like the slime-bag he is.

Gibbs stands inside his work area and motions for McGee to begin a trace.

Tony clicks out of his web sensation website as his ears perk up. He leaves his desk and crowds McGee, "It's Branson." He whispers and notices McGee isn't picking up anything, "What the hell's taking you so long?"

"It's not me--it's the system--or Gibbs' cell phone…" He taps his foot, growing impatient. "Or…some sort of block Branson must be using."

"I've just about had enough of this prick." Tony's face is disgruntled. "Find him, McGee."

"I just told you I'm trying, Tony!" He starts to feel the pressure riding on his shoulders.

"You're awfully quiet, Gibbs-y." Branson drawls. "…Busy with Ms. David, are we?"

"Keep talking you bastard…" Gibbs says under his breath. "Keep talking…"

Tony catches a look from Gibbs and shrugs, "Nothing boss--he must be using a block on his phone."

McGee looks at Gibbs to confirm that Tony is most likely correct and that he agrees.

Gibbs has to think--and fast. "Sounds like you've got quite the crush on me, Kyle." He uses his first name for effect.

"I've never been known to swing that way, Gibbs-y."

"Could have fooled me." Gibbs is being as casual as he can be. "This is the second time you've called me."

"I had some free time. Thought I would…brighten your day…" He is being just as casual.

"Well--you didn't. So--what seems to be the reason for this phone call?"

"You hung up on me the last time." He sighs. "You should know how much that pains me inside." His tone thoroughly sarcastic.

"You're on thin ice, Branson--and when I find you--"

"You're going to kill me. Promises, promises, promises…" He sneers. "Give it up Gibbs-y, I'm too good for you."

"I found you once, I'll find you twice."

"You find me twice--I'll kill you once."

The line goes dead, leaving Gibbs without the option of saying the last word or being in any kind of control. Slamming his phone shut, he slams it on his desk and points his index fingers on both hands to his two Agents.

"YOU TWO BETTER HAVE SOME INFORMATION FOR ME!"

Tony and McGee hold their breaths.

"DiNozzo--what've ya got?"

"A bit of an upset stomach, but nothing a few antacids won't--" He feels a sharp hit to the back of the head, "…fix." He clears his throat. "Right--for the case--which case?"

"The dead Marine we weren't able to locate in the park!" Gibbs' voice is sharp and agitated.

"Ah--the possible 'Branson Strikes Again'…" Tony leaves McGee's desk and returns to his own. "I've got nothing--Probie?" He turns his head sideways and offers the spotlight to McGee.

Gibbs turns his attention to McGee. McGee open and closes his mouth, but nothing comes out.

"MCGEE!" Gibbs rushes up on him and stares him straight in the eyes. "You better have something DiNozzo doesn't."

"I've got something."

The three men focus their attention on Ziva who has found her way into her old working quarter. Her body automatically shifts towards her old desk, but she does not claim it as her own. Agent Huntington is not present, so Ziva is able to soak up some of the old sensations

"…If you will listen." She looks directly at Gibbs, knowing that Tony and McGee can not take their eyes off of her.

"I don't willingly take information from the CIA." He leaves McGee's desk to properly snap at her. "They play dirty. You're playing dirty."

"That isn't fair Gibbs, and you know it." Tony steps in; getting out of his chair to help one of his former partners. "You say the same thing about the FBI--and even Fornell gets a better attitude from you."

"Stay out of this, DiNozzo."

"Why should I? This is what we've all been waiting for." He feels the tension beginning to grow. "The Director closed the case upstairs…but not in here…" He points to their work area. "We're all still feeling the pain--the damage. This is our chance--to find closure."

"DiNozzo…" Gibbs' tone is warning. "Stay out of it."

"Don't be stupid, Gibbs." Ziva finally says. "Put everything that has happened aside. I ask you to forget our differences--if only for this one time. Just let me help you--after everything, you know I'm good for it."

He takes a look at his Agents--especially McGee who has since left his desk to be a part of the debate even if he has nothing to say. Switching his gaze back to Ziva, he stares at her for a good, long minute. "What've ya got?"

"The location of his next drop." She feels three pair of eyes grow intense as they take in what she has said. "Kort's working another case--feeding information to an arms dealer--apparently Branson wants to purchase some weapons."

"Broadening his horizons…how 'action-flick' of him." Tony says to himself, but loud enough for everyone near him to hear.

"You just jeopardized your position at the CIA." Gibbs can hardly believe it.

"I'd do anything to find this guy." Her stare and feelings just as intense as his. "Even if it means me being alive is taken straight to my father in Tel Aviv."

Gibbs has something to say to her. A number of things to say to her, but he knows this is not the time or the place so he takes a step closer to her and says, "Where?"

* * *

McGee begins checking the devices and supplies they will be using on their second mission to catch the familiar drug dealer.

"This time we go completely hardcore--rugged--simple, but effective." Tony begins his tirade until he sees McGee open up the selection of 'Eyes and Ears', "Oh--I want the hippy necklace." He plucks it out of the suitcase. "Yeah--this is totally me--colorful, but manly."

Gibbs enters the room, after getting clearance from Director Shepard, and puts his opened hand right under Tony's nose. "Give it."

"Ah but boss--I thought you wanted the dog tag like last time."

"We're not going undercover as drug dealers this time." He keeps his hand open until the intensity of stare frightens Tony--and he feels the necklace being put in his hand. "Other suitcase, McGee." He tosses it back into the open suitcase. "Grab a pair of each for yourself when you get it open." He says only to McGee.

Tony blinks between Gibbs and McGee. "Am I missing something?"

"You're on surveillance duty."

"Come on boss, I already did that."

"Are you telling me there's no room for improvement?" Clearly Gibbs still feels a bit of doubt about what happened in the past. "Besides--Agent David needs a partner."

"I thought you asked the Director to exclude them from the investigation." Tony is being so matter-of-fact is starting to annoy Gibbs.

"I did. Now stop talking and get to the parking garage." He sees Ziva approaching them. "And take her with you."

She takes a slight offense to be referred in such a general manner, but she does not say anything. "Where to?"

"Surveillance with DiNozzo." He tells her before Tony has the chance to speak.

"And what about you?" She does not argue her position because she was never issued a weapon in the CIA--her position did not allow her to kill regardless of her skills and training.

"McGee and I will be inside the warehouse."

At the same time, they both flashback to their nightmare.

"Why McGee?" Tony steps in and breaks their flashback.

"He needs to operate the device." He points to Mcgee who is holding the cell phone boost. "There won't be a reception block this time."

"Nor will they know we're coming." McGee adds.

"So you're basically gonna run up on him and his men like James Bond?" Tony smirks.

"Didn't I tell you to get to the garage?!" Gibbs snaps at Tony.

Tony grabs a hold of Ziva and tugs her along with him quickly.

* * *

The inside of the unmarked van is equip with the most recent high-tech machinery NCIS has. A few systems could be faulty, but that is only due to repetitive usage by an endless count of NCIS Agents.

Tony settles himself in his seat. He slides a bottle of Pepsi across the clear patch of counter-top to Ziva--and then wiggles a straw in front of her eyes.

"I really hope I do not need to share this with you."

"Of course not, Zee-vah." He hands her the straw and then pulls out his own bottle of Pepsi.

"Where did you get these?"

"Stole them out of the fridge in the garage break-room before we left headquarters." He lets out a sneaky laugh. "They're lucky I didn't steal their lunches."

"You are cruel, Tony."

With a twinkle in his eye, he grins at her, "But I'm fun, too."

"Perhaps." She chooses to play with the straw instead of use it to drink her soda.

He notices her seriousness, but is not sure on how to address it. She is without weapons, but her strength is still present. One wrong move and she could send him straight to his death--even by accident.

"Your father thinks you're still alive?" He knows he could have chosen an easier question, but this is the only one that seems to grip him; tightly.

"Yes." She flashes him a quick look. "He sent Mi--a good friend…to kill me." She does not find it easy to speak about yet. "This is why I returned."

Tony only stares at her. His bottle of Pepsi long forgotten.

"This is why I did not return to NCIS." She sighed.

"The Director knows."

"Yes--but the Director will not tell." She pauses. "The Director is not who I am worried about."

He nods his head slightly. "Does Gibbs know?"

"He does." She confirms.

He knows his next question will cross the line, but he feels an impulse and he can not stifle it. "Does he even care?"

She takes a moment before looking at him.

He sees nothing, but doubt.

* * *

Gibbs sips his coffee inside the parked car. McGee is sitting shotgun, looking out his own window; waiting.

"I didn't see Agent Huntington this morning."

"Called out sick." McGee notifies his superior.

Gibbs does not sit well with the information, but there is nothing he can do at the moment. The only thing he has time for is getting Branson. Once--and for _all_.

"You see what I see, boss?" McGee leans further into his chair to grant Gibbs access of visibility through his window.

"Call DiNozzo and…Ziva--tell them we're ready."

* * *

"It's show-time!" Tony rubs his hands together then flicks all the switches that need flicking. "We have visual…"

Ziva flicks one he missed, offers him a grin, then settles back in her chair as she slips on her headphones.

"Ziva's got her phones on--say something, Probie." Tony chooses McGee purposely, knowing that he has yet to speak to Ziva since her return.

* * *

"Hey…Ziva…" McGee's voice is small, nearly strained. Gibbs can sense it and he gives him a serious stare. "Can you hear me?"

* * *

"I can, McGee." Her voice is soft and sincere.

"How about you--you big, bad Marine?" Tony teases his boss in a friendly way while shouting close to Ziva's mouth-piece.

"Watch it, DiNozzo." The gruffness of Gibbs' tone creates a smirk on Tony and Ziva's voice.

* * *

"…Loud and clear, Gibbs." Gibbs stops to blink a moment. He sensed the hesitation in her voice in an instant.

* * *

The sound of car doors being slammed can be heard. Tony watches the camera from McGee while Ziva watches the camera from Gibbs on the two monitors inside the van.

"Okay McGee, you're comin' up on some pink frilly flowers--please hesitate from picking them."

* * *

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs whispers harshly into his mouth piece.

* * *

"Relax, Gibbs." Tony is enjoying this, but he knows that it is time to forget about playing games. "Just be careful." He alerts his two teammates.

Ziva wants to say something, but she feels as if it isn't her place. Reaching for her bottle of Pepsi she takes a quick sip before twisting the cap back on top of it.

She continues to watch Gibbs' camera and notices that the walls inside the abandoned facility look familiar. Tony notices her register something inside of her head from the few blinks of her eyes and blurts out his question, "What is it?"

"I've seen this place before." She continues to watch. "Turn to your left, Gibbs."

* * *

Gibbs does as he is told, his gun drawn--ready to kill anyone in his path. "Just an empty room." He says though he knows they can see for themselves.

* * *

"This is the place in the photos on top of Kort's desk." She leans in closer to the screen. "Maybe the arms dealer makes several of his drops here as well?"

"Let Kort handle it."

She wants to protest, but if she does it will result in an argument. Gibbs is NCIS and she is CIA. His business is not hers and her business is not his--the only relations they have is with Branson.

Gibbs is right. Kort or anyone else from the CIA will have to handle their arms dealer themselves. Right now--he wants Branson. Right now Branson is theirs.

Tony watches Ziva closely; knowing she wants to snap at Gibbs, but is holding back for whatever reason. He wants to ask her why, but he knows they aren't the only ones around now that the listening devices have been turned on.

* * *

He looks to McGee who is using a device that will pick up anyone's body heat within a respectable radius. "What've ya got, McGee?" His tone low and reserved.

"Nothing. We're the only ones in here…" He takes a few steps forward, but is cut off by Gibbs who is trying his best to stay as the leader. "I should be the one to lead, boss." Gibbs stops in his track and turns to face McGee. "Only because I know how to read this thing…" He says easily, knowing that the fire in Gibbs' eyes is real and it is near consuming a number of his senses. "…not that you don't know how to…but if it starts malfunctioning I'll probably know what to do…maybe…er…"

Gibbs gives him a look that tells him he understands and he is free to lead the way. McGee hesitates a few seconds before finally passing his team leader and begin to lead the way.

* * *

"Our little boy's growing up…" Tony says clearly in his mouth piece.

* * *

"DiNozzo, I swear, if I were closer to you I'd--"

"Boss--we've got company." McGee's voice is a hushed tone.

"Where McGee?" Gibbs' face is frantic.

"In the next roo-" He stops when he sees two forms appear on the screen behind them, "Boss!"

* * *

"ZEE-VAH!" Tony grabs a hold of her forearm. "STAY!"

"There were gun shots!" Her eyes unfocused and wild.

"I know that--but we don't know who's gun went off!"

She rips her arm from his grasp. "Look at the screen's, Tony--they've gone blank!" She picks up the headphones. "There's no sound!"

He fears the worse, but chooses not to say anything.

"We have to help them!" She turns her back on him, but he grabs her once more. "TONY!"

"Listen to me! You can't go in there--you are without a weapon. Going in there now will only have you end up dead!" His throat catches fire from the delivery of his words.

Her breath is coming out in short pants. As she tries to gain control, she tries to form a sentence. W-what would you rather have me do…_us_ do?"

* * *

"TONY! ZIVA!" Gibbs shouts into McGee's mouth piece. His fell to the floor before he fired, and he stepped on it--crushing it entirely. "McGee's been shot."

"I'll call--"

"I already called 911!" Gibbs barks. "There's no one else here."

"You sure?"

"I'm still here aren't I?!" Gibbs could head-slap DiNozzo at the very moment.

* * *

Ziva opens the back van door. She knows it is risky, but she needs to get a clear view of her surroundings and when she finally puts her feet on the ground, she sees three dark blue van throwing themselves into traffic.

"I've spotted them!" She rushes around the van and climbs into the Driver's seat. She throws van in gear without directly informing Tony of her actions.

"Hang on a minute boss!" Tony manages to say before he feels himself being thrown to the other side of the van. He quickly braces himself and manages to pull the van doors closed. After locking them, he pounds on the wall between the front and the back of the van.

"ZIVA STOP THE FUCKING VAN!" He hollers--scared for her crazy decision to take complete control into her hands. "I'M STILL BACK HERE!"

His mind is racing and the shouting he is hearing from his headphones notifies him that Gibbs is having a hard time understanding what is going on.

* * *

"WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON, DINOZZO?!" Gibbs screams as he holds pressure against McGee's McGee's shoulder. His hands becoming covered with the younger Agent's blood.

"Ziva's driving the truck." He says it calmly hoping that it will put Gibbs at ease.

"WHAT?!" Gibbs is in disbelief. "What the hell is she thinking?!"

* * *

"…I wouldn't know…I'm still stuck in the back of the truck." His tone dripping with sarcasm. "Guess I've got no choice, but to go along for the ride."

* * *

Gibbs sighs heavily. He rips open his jacket and slides it off his shoulders and arms. He wraps it around McGee hoping to warm him his chilling body. "You're gonna be okay, McGee--just keep your eyes open. They're on their way."

Mcgee nods his head as best as he can. Gibbs catches a small smirk on his lips. "What?"

"Ziva really does care."

Gibbs gives him a brief nod before looking away from him. "DiNozzo--you still there?"

* * *

"I've got nowhere else to be." His elbows try to rest easily on the top of his knees though he keeps shifting from Ziva's erratic driving skills.

"Make sure she doesn't go alone. She's without a weapon."

"Roger that, boss." Tony says. "…And McGee's right."


	21. Closeness

Author's Note: Hey all, sorry for the careless mistakes I made in the previous chapter. I should really find more time to proof-read--but I was rushing. Anyway, hope you enjoy the new episode of NCIS tonight--poor Gibbs huh? Meeting up with his mother-in-law. Anyway--I hope you enjoy the episode. Later Days. -**Geek** _(Sabrina)_

**Chapter 21: Closeness**

The hospital hallway is nearly empty. McGee is awarded an operation in the private area of the facility. The bullet is lodged in the front of his upper leg.

* * *

"A few inches to the left and McGee's 'band of brothers' would be no more." Tony comments, his back flush against the wall.

Ziva is near rolling her eyes, but there is a certain humorous flare within them that can not be denied.

"Knock it off, DiNozzo." Gibbs only warns him with a look this time. His energy is interested in something else entirely different from head-slapping. "Ziva--I wanna talk to ya."

Tony's ears perk at the request. It is not out of excitement, but out of curiosity. Ziva, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable; unsure, really--but follows Gibbs into the connecting hallway for minimal privacy anyway.

It does not take long for Gibbs to trap her between the wall and himself. "Talk." His hand threatening to reach across and lay flat against the patch of wall near her head.

"Here?" Her mind focusing on _their_ issues more than the one at hand.

"McGee's lying on a damn operating table--yes, here--NOW!"

"This is about the case." She says it more for her benefit, but he is too close not to hear or register what she was thinking. "I did not know this would happen." She sees he is not making an effort to move away from her. She begins to feel his body heat and she finds herself unsure on how to react to it. "I told you the truth, Gibbs."

"I'm not sure I believe that." He doesn't care how dark his voice is becoming. "My team has no room for error--so this wasn't our faults."

"I'm not sure it is wise to blame anyone."

"Oh--is that so?" He pushes himself away from her by shifting his weight backwards. "We're letting Branson fuck us."

She twitches now. His words biting into her deeply. He catches her reaction, but does not say anything--even though he regrets it.

"He's play with us." He says carefully, but keeps the roughness in his tone. "He knew we'd be there. I told him if I caught him again I'd kill him."

"But you didn't catch him--he caught McGee…he _shot_ McGee." She feels the situation becoming worse. "What if his plan is to target every single one of us?"

"I'm not leaving him with that option."

"It wouldn't hurt to take precaution."

"MY TEAM ALWAYS TAKES PRECAUTION!"

The few nurses walking and talking inside the short-ended hallway slow their steps; moments later coming to a complete stop. They gaze over their shoulders at the two NCIS Agents--ready to go over to them and warn them for creating a hostile environment inside of a medical hospital.

"I would advise you not to draw anymore attention…" She does not turn her head, but her eyes do so for her. After a second she focuses on her aggressive ex-boss. "What would you suggest we do?"

He knows she is within good reason, so he tries to calm himself while forming a sentence, "Suppose he's eliminating us, the next one could be just about anybody from the team."

"I am not a part of your team." The truth had never been spoken so clearly. "It would not be me."

"He got to you once--you're not off the hook." His tone serious. "He wouldn't touch Ducky--Palmer or Abby."

"What makes you so sure?" Her expression flashes with intrigue.

"He wants those that nearly took him down." He moves in closer, but does not crowd her like he had before. "Has he ever called you?"

"No."

"Contacted you in some other way?"

"No."

He nods, but the look she manages to catch in his eyes tells her that he is not saying something that could be of good use to them. "He has spoken to you." Her ability to read him is not as clear as it once was, but there is something about his expression that makes her confident enough to state her question as a fact. "When?"

"Once a few months ago. Once…earlier today."

"You spoke to him today?" He takes a step back as if her tone is pushing him away. "Were you not going to tell us?"

"It had happened moments before you gave us the location of the warehouse. DiNozzo and McGee knew about it--I tried to have them trace the call."

"He wouldn't be so stupid." She huffs. "It would have served me well if I would have known you were in contact with him."

"It wasn't as if we were planning a game of poker--Ziva. The bastard found my number and called me--just to push my buttons."

"Did he?"

"YES!" He admits it through an anguished growl. "Ziva--he's fucking with me and I can't seem to catch this son-of-a-bitch!" His sane battles his insane. "The team and I tried to get him when you left, but it was impossible. He blended in with the rest of the underworld--not even our sketchy informants could pin-point his locations. We were fucked and he knew it."

She feels because he feels. She knows this because his voice has become hoarse.

"With McGee down that leaves the three of us…" He tosses a look over his shoulder. "Maybe I ought to just put a bullet through the bastard--all tactics of being an investigator completely lost due to one whack-job who had it comin'."

Ziva is disturbed by the smirk that has taken residence on his lips. "Maybe I should play dirty."

"I would think twice about that, Gibbs." She wants to reach for him, but she knows it is not a move she should make. "He isn't worth the rest of your life." Her eyes reach the floor because she is more comfortable looking away from his clear, blue eyes these days. "Killing him will never take back what he did to us."

"No, but it'd all do us some good."

She is not in agreement with this, but she nods anyway. "Do you believe he murdered the missing Marine?"

"Sometimes yes. Sometimes no."

"The correct thing would be to take him in for questioning--hold him there until he confesses…if at that moment you feel he is the one to blame." She knows he does not like the idea of having to face the man, but it is in his job description to give any person, criminal or not, the chance to defend themselves. "You must give him justice, Gibbs."

"Don't want to--Ziva."

"Not everything is about you, Gibbs!" She balls her hands into fists. "Just because you want something it does not mean that you will get it or it will be given to you."

"It worked for you."

"I did not want to make the team suffer." She is growing upset, but she hides her raw emotions under layers of professionalism. "And--I have come back to realize that my leaving has done more harm than good." She is waiting for him to say something, but he does not even make the slightest move to open his mouth. "But I will not accept you becoming a killer!"

His eyes widen. "I've killed before!"

"Yes--but never without reason."

"That's the point--I've had my reasons."

"That is not the point--this is _our _reason!" Her fists loosen so her hands can act out widely in front of her. "There is no room for justice if you take it upon yourself to kill him." Her voice tightening with emotions. "Do you not see? I do not want you to shield me from confronting him. I want my chance--I _need_ my chance to break him just as he broke _us_."

He takes a step closer to her. Her body is reacting in small shakes. It is her emotions--twisting and turning in every-which-way. "Will you please try and understand?"

"I understand."

He says it faster than he intended, but is happy that the words have left his mouth. If he were to have stalled, it would have stretched the already enlarged-gap between them.

"So then it is settled--we locate him and we _catch_ him." She looks to him for confirmation and he gives it without a slight hesitation.

She reaches the handle of one of the doors and pulls it to her, but his hand comes forward and holds the door steady. "Not so fast."

"What is it?" She takes a step back.

"Why'd you flee the warehouse?" The mild distrust he has in her shows itself.

"I thought I could reach them."

"I better not find out that you knew Branson would switch locations."

"Why would I lie?"

"You've helped us--but CIA still plays dirty."

"That is not fair, Gibbs. Every Agency has its corruptions."

"And you're working with one of them." He retorts and pushes past her in order to reach DiNozzo.

She stands there shaking her head in a tiresome manner. She feels as if he just will never let up about her new position as a CIA Agent--or anything else.

* * *

McGee awakes to see her resting in a chair near his bed. Memories of what happen play inside of his head; making him grunt in displeasure. His right leg feels numb, while the rest of his body feels achy.

She opens her eyes when she hears his intake of air. "It is fine, McGee. You are safe now."

"Tell me I still have a leg--and it's my real one." His eyes are wide.

"You have a leg--your real one." She offers him a thin smile.

"Unfortunately the bullet was lost inside and your right leg will forever be attracted to anything metal." Tony adds to the conversation. It causes McGee's eyes to widen even more. "This is why your leg is being held down by large, hemp-like straps--"

"Tony--enough!" She puts a hand up. "Do not frighten McGee."

"You're no fun." Tony pouts, but soon a full-blown smile washes over his face. "Did any cute nurses touch you?"

"Answer carefully, McGee." Ziva playfully warns him

"I won't answer him at all." McGee mutters; his attention more on Ziva than Tony. "How are you?"

"Fine. I was not shot." She motions towards his injured leg even if it is underneath the blanket. "You are brave, McGee."

"Come on--he was shot in the leg." Tony rolls his eyes. "I nearly died from a gunshot wound to the chest."

"It was your shoulder, Tony!" Ziva and McGee say in unison.

"I don't like the air around here…" Tony gives them a flippant look and exits.

Several minutes pass, but neither will speak. Soon McGee grows restless and tries his best to reach for her hand. When his fingers touch hers, that lay on top of his hospital bed, her body relishes in the familiar, friendly touch.

"What is it, McGee?" She looks at him worriedly. "Is it a nurse that you need?"

"I'm fine--really Ziva, I'm fine." He assures her because he sees the worry still present in her eyes. "I just…wanted to touch you…talk to you…I kind of haven't since you've returned."

"I have not seen you at all…since I've returned." She tells him and he nods. "I understand all the problems that I have caused, McGee. I have heard that Abby hates me."

"That could be easily dismissible…knowing Abby."

"Perhaps I do not know Abby, anymore…" His hand on hers keeps her grounded, but alarmed. "Do you hate me, McGee?"

"I don't--Ziva. I really don't." His tone sounds ashamed.

"You did not show the other night--at the bar. It was only Tony and myself." He removes his hand and turns his head slightly; his gaze falling away from her. "I thought you would be there."

"I failed you?"

"No. I am afraid, yet prepared, to take on that responsibility." She ends with a small laugh. "I've failed the whole team."

"Things wouldn't have gotten this out of hand if either of you would have told us…" His eyes return to her, but she quickly looks away. "Well--more so you than Gibbs. It's hard to get anything out of him."

"I was the one that wanted it ignored. He only agreed--to make things easier for me." She is anxious, for a few possible reasons now. "I only managed to take his kindness for granted."

His hand returns to her. "Eh--don't be so hard on yourself. Gibbs probably deserved to be taken for granted." A smile creeping on his face. "Don't tell him I said that--he'd kick my ass."

"I will not." Her smile as warm as his. "Could I possibly ask you something, McGee?"

"I don't see why not." He lifts his arms; showing that he can only seem to move those body parts at the moments--besides his head and neck.

"Did _this _ever make you think less of me?"

"I only thought of you, Ziva." His eyes are warm pools. "And I missed you."

Her eyes slowly begin to grow red and blurred, but she blinks back the tears. It is no place for her to let them fall. "Thank you, McGee."

Tony bursts through the door. A small snack from the vending machine nestled in his hand. "What has McGeek done now?"

She turns to Tony with a wide smile. "He has been a friend…" She turns her gaze to McGee once again. "…always…a good friend."

Tony is unsure at this point, but soon their smiles become infectious--and his snack is long forgotten as he joins in their delight.


	22. Interrogation

**Chapter 22: Interrogation**

The time is now. Darkness. Lights flashing. Neon paint. Black-lights. Buzzing motors. Black leather. Spikes and chains. All the welcoming visuals of an underground circuit.

Let the games begin…

* * *

"So how we doin' this boss man?" Tony's leather jacket compliments his snug black pants. His t-shirt a solid green and his shoes straight out of an old storage bin from the early 80's. "God, I am so Michael Knight right now."

Gibbs ignores his 80's TV reference and continues to tie the laces on his boots.

"Since I'm Michael Knight, who are you supposed to be?" Tony takes in Gibbs' standard appearance. "Gomez Addams?"

He does it again. Another television show reference.

"Gomez Addams had a mustache."

"…Well so did you…" Tony bites his lip when he catches Gibbs glare. "Which you looked insanely dashing with, boss."

"Shut the hell up and get out of the truck, DiNozzo." Gibbs pushes the door open and waits for his chatty Agent to pass through first.

* * *

Ziva sits inside the chair that belongs to the spare desk. Agent Huntington watches her closely as if she is waiting for an opportunity to call her on something--but Ziva only continues to look.

She is waiting for Branson--in the flesh and unwilling to cooperate.

Still, she uses the pending time to soak in the essence she once was a part of. The properly segregated desks still managed to create a closeness between the members of Team Gibbs. The natural feeling of a traditional family with the usual sprinklings of a dysfunctional family.

The best of both worlds were once hers to be a part of. Now she was an outsider looking in--stuck in a confused position. Not knowing whether she wanted to beg for a reentrance or if she wanted to properly vacate after the case was over--hoping Team Gibbs would happily abide.

She does not have a choice. Entering NCIS would alert her father in Tel Aviv.

Here she stays with the CIA.

Forever she plays dirty.

* * *

He presses his foot into the back of Branson's neck. He is not in danger because the alleyway is not only dark, it is motionless. "Got him, boss." Tony says into his cell phone. "I let the motor running on my bike."

"Where the hell is that, DiNozzo?"

"At the end of the circuit." He says, then hears the phone click. Pushing his phone back into his pocket, he sighs.

"Fuck you, DiNozzo." Branson rasps while trying to force himself off the ground. "This is against the law."

"Then you should feel right at home." Tony presses down harder.

He scans the area and waits patiently for Gibbs. All the while Branson struggles to free himself from Tony's impaling foot.

* * *

Director Shepard walks into the tiny room. Her eyes find Tony's and they share an untold connection between each other without an utterance of a single word. An ability created due to her using of him for a secret mission.

"I would prefer you conduct the interrogation."

"Gibbs and Ziva are already getting ready." He says it in a normal tone, but his insides are buzzing around uncontrollably. "They deserve to handle this one."

"There is no sign of Gibbs' control." She reports as her eyes linger on the man behind the two-way mirror. "He just might be the most handsome drug dealer I've ever had the displeasure of seeing."

"Same." Tony agrees on the man's good looks. "Are you as happy to be behind this mirror as I am?"

"Happier." She breathes for a moment. "I do not trust Gibbs' actions."

"Do you really think it will be up for discussion?" He gives her a slanted look. "Gibbs will throw a fit."

She smirks at the mention. "I am the Director."

"Would you really feel right about denying him this moment?" His eyes flash with sadness. "This bastard tore the team apart."

Her heart tells her that if she denies Gibbs, she will regret it for the rest of her life. "I need to be on a flight in the next hour." She leans in closer. "Tell them to shut off the recording."

"Director?"

"This stays between the team and myself…" She takes another look at Branson. "Make sure Gibbs gets him--for whatever reason. Just get him."

Tony can barely nod before he hears the door shut behind her.

* * *

Ziva crosses her arms inside the empty hallway. She tries to gather her thoughts before entering interrogation. This moment alone is something she needs desperately.

Gibbs rounds the corner silently. A folder gripped between his thumb and index finger. Its contents focused on the man waiting for questions.

Slowing his steps he takes in her appearance and visually sees what he knows he feels like on the inside. Pushing his feet forward, he makes them create sounds that he knows will not go unheard.

With her arms still crossed in front, she turns head to find him looking at her and waiting--looking strong, but helpless.

"Times up, Ziva." He speaks quietly to her. "This is what you wanted, remember?"

"Yes." She hears her own regret.

"I wanted to kill the bastard." He reminds her. "…But I told you I understood--and I meant it."

"I know that Gibbs."

He is near to her now. His scent mingles with her own. He is right, their time is up. Branson is waiting--and justice is due.

He holds the folder out for her to take. "I'll follow your lead."

The slight hesitation makes her angry with herself, but when she manages to see that his eyes are full of understanding, she allows herself to feel worthy.

When her fingers make contact with the folder, he lets go of it.

* * *

One tap. Two taps. Three taps--four. There goes his lazy fingers against the sleek table.

One twitch. Two twitches. Three twitches--four. There goes his unnerving eyes as they wander over Ziva.

One smirk. Two smirks. Three smirks--four. There goes his full realization of the moment at hand.

"Nice to see you _again_, Ms. David." His smile is worth a million dollars of filthy, unearned money. "You look better than the last time I had the pleasure of…_seeing_ you."

* * *

Tony turns to the man working behind him. He uses his hand to signal that recording be cut. Within seconds the man leaves the room and Tony turns back to the scene in front of him--the tiny, unsightly hairs on the back of his neck awake with tension.

* * *

"Gibbs-y." He throws his head back in sheer remembrance. "This'll be the second time I've seen you today." His eyes are telling Gibbs to say something.

Gibbs begins to feel his control wavering. "Lucky you."

He leaves Ziva standing alone. He locates the wall next to the mirror and leans against it. Crossing his legs, he waits patiently for her to get started.

She feels stuck--as if she is glued to the floor. Interrogations never made her uneasy. Cases never rattled her to this degree. And this makes her worried inside, but on the outside she tries to appear merciless.

* * *

Tony swallows the lump in his throat. Something in the upper regions of his body clutches with unspoken pain. A feeling his usual dose of humor can not cover.

* * *

"Is it my turn to make a move?" Branson turns to joking; one of his many hidden abilities.

"Sit!" Gibbs barks as he sees the man begin to stand. "Stay." He says more calmly now. Soon his eyes turn to Ziva, but he has a hard time communicating with her. "Agent David is going to ask you a few questions."

"Oh…" He rubs his hands together. His pricey watch shifts left and right over his wrist. "What might these questions be, Ms. David?" He leers at her because he wants to play with her. "If it's my number that you want--I'll give it to you. I'll give it _all_ to you."

Gibbs removes his back from the wall, but chooses to pace the floor instead of lunging across the table and strangling the cheeky drug dealer.

It is something in Gibbs' body language that puts her into gear. Seeing him fighting with his control bothers her because it makes her realize that hers will begin to slip in the near future as well.

Sitting down in the empty chair across from the clear and present criminal, she places the folder in front of her--unopened and without the intention to use.

"Are you aware as to why you are here?" She chooses for her first question.

"You just wanted to get the _three_ of us alone, _again_." His grin widening. "I gotta tell ya Agent David--this time I get to take on the role of good ole Gibbs-y over there." His gaze never leaving hers.

She begins to feel the muscles in her hand crunch and release, but there is no physical evidence of this. Her hand is still flat on the surface of the table.

"There a camera behind that two-way mirror?" He looks over her shoulder. "I bet Agent DiNozzo's behind there…waiting for one hell of a show."

* * *

Behind the two-way mirror, Tony grits his teeth. The pain inside of him switching to agonizing anger.

With his shoulders tense, he moves his head left and hears a crack. Within seconds he moves his head to the right and hears another crack.

"Damn it--one of you get this guy." He says under his breath. "Before I do."

* * *

"You are familiar with the drug circuit, yes?" She wants his confirmation just for the sake of asking her second question, but he refuses to give her one. "Familiar with murder." She states, her eyes flickering to Gibbs.

Gibbs rounds the table--continuing to slowly circle the two people and the desk. His intentions are to listen only.

"Want to know what else I'm familiar with, Agent David?" His question is filled with twisted excitement.

The strong, sturdy hand of Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs makes contact with the surface of the table. "SHE ASKS QUESTIONS! YOU GIVE ANSWERS!"

"Easy there Gibbs-y…" His body not reacting to the unexpected action. "Don't try to put on a front _now_. You _had_ your chance."

The air shifts as Ziva clutches the front of his neck violently. The pressure of her fingers press further into his flesh; causing his air supply to become limited.

"I could kill you." She whispers darkly.

"Ziva." Gibbs' tone is understanding, but also warning. "Let him go."

"No." Her senses are becoming cloudy. "You were right, Gibbs. Kill him."

Branson's face is becoming redder, his ability to form a thought is becoming blurred. His hands are around her hand and wrist, but her emotions create a strength in her he can not fight against.

Gibbs feels the situation become deadly and chooses to step in. Rounding the table, he wraps his arms around her arms, pushing her back into his chest. Soon her grip loosens and she lets go of Branson.

Branson gasps for air. His head still cloudy--his eyes wild and watery. "Fucking bitch." He gaps again.

Ziva tries to reach him again, but Gibbs continues to hold her back. "Stop it!" He orders her, but she is relentless. "Damn it--DINOZZO!" He calls desperately.

The door bursts open and Tony is there--already taking a hold of Ziva before Gibbs cane tell him to. Pulling her out of the room, he surprisingly gets her into the hallway in time to see Gibbs slam and lock the door.

Throwing his leg over the chair, he rips open the folder. Taking one photo out he throws it across the table at Branson. "Jeffery Peters. 31. Married. 3 Kids. Dead." He takes another photo and crams it into Branson's face. "Andrew Hedge. 22. College student. Dead." He stops for a breath. "Jackson Tripp. 27. Marine. Dead. He shoves the rest of the folder's contents at Branson. "ALL OF 'EM--DEAD!"

Branson is quiet. He knows of his actions. He will never forget his actions. He does not want to forget his actions.

He is far too proud of his complete _control_.

Inhaling sharply, Gibbs seems to be the one that could use a gulp of air. "Drugs. Murder." He swallows for a moment. "_Sex_."

"Aren't you the one guilty of that, Agent Gibbs?" He properly addresses him.

Gibbs does not answer. Instead, he begins to gather the contents of the folder. He hears the opening of the door and notices Tony. "Cuff this son of a bitch."

Branson tries to fight Tony off, but a solid punch from Gibbs makes him weaken. "You're under arrest for the past and recent murders of innocent civilians."

His face begins to swell from the impact of Gibbs' attack. "That all, Gibbs-y?"

"And for fucking with the wrong team." He shoves past him--folder in hand.

Branson jerks against Tony's strong hold and the cutting pressure of the cuffs. "Interesting situation, huh DiNozzo?"

"Oh…I've got a feeling where you're going is far more interesting…" Tony remarks before hauling his ass out the door.


	23. Harbor

**Chapter 23: Harbor**

Outdoor café's take residence on the boardwalk at Washington Harbor; one of Georgetown's visual attractions. The area is appreciated, may it be day or night, because its gorgeous waterfront can not be denied.

The unoccupied parts of the bench are chilly from the air that is still trying to break into full-fledged Spring mode. The sun has begun to set, but it still serves as a source of warmth and remains as if it were a gigantic painting sitting inside the solid and quiet walls of a World-Famous museum.

The darkened, strong coffee that sits at the bottom of his coffee cup is awaiting to be consumed, but it meets a grueling end when it spills into the garbage mount on the strip of pavement better known as a sidewalk.

His footsteps are perfectly calculated and quiet. His intention to act normal and to be casual even if the moment at hand is spontaneous.

When she turns her head sideways to take in his presence, she begins to soak in the warming colors of the sunset that splash past him.

"I do believe you are standing in front of my light."

He finds the edge of the bench and takes a seat knowing that he could have positioned himself closer, but this invisible wall silently buzzed all around her.

"Thought the sky held possession of it."

"Very well." She agrees and is pleasant sounding now that his body no longer interfered with the eye-catching visual.

His slender fingers interlace with each other and fall over the slight opening of his legs. The tops of his knees serve as strong pillows for his pointy elbows.

Her breathing is at ease. The weight of a monster lurking in the shadows seems to have been lessened though the memories still come to her every now and then.

"I suggest this visit serve as a purpose." Her tone demanding, but only for her patience that has started to become skittish.

He no longer finds interest in his hands, so he looks out past the waterfront and cracks his shell a little bit. "Would it be alright if I told you how I felt that day?"

His question is so forthcoming and in a calm tone of voice that she is taken aback for a few minutes. He senses her surprise, but offers her the chance to ride through her realization. It is only when a woman and her large, expensive designer bag passes by them, does he turn a little to face her.

"Brace yourself David, this might be the only time in the history of my existence I've spoken so many words at one given time." He opts for a carefree attitude in hopes it will dull whatever terrible reaction she could feel from what he wants to say to her.

"I am ready, Gibbs." She speaks so true as she takes the offering of his clear eyes.

"Didn't want to see you go--forever." He begins his story. "Leaving Branson the option to get to you and then to kill you was something I felt I had complete control over." His hands loosen. "I never had that option with Kate. Ari shot her from yards away--couldn't prevent her from dying even if I tried."

Her throat tightens at the mention of her half-brother.

"Not that my decision came without consequences." He feels that piece of his now cracked shell demanding to be put back where it belonged. "But you know damn well that any decision I made, you were going to pay for it…and so was I."

She tears her eyes from his and tries to follow the slight rippling of the waterfront.

"Sometimes I blame DiNozzo." His tone becoming flippant while her gaze returns to his with a disapproving look. "Not that I feel proud of that, but he and McGee only knew what made them lose connection with us."

"You shouldn't feel that way."

"But I do!" He snaps, but quickly diverts his attention back to that damn annoying chunk of shell that wants to be pitched back into its rightful place. "Can't help that--not now at least. Maybe in a few years or so…when it's all behind me…or pushed somewhere into the dark shadows of my mind."

He skips a beat.

"Didn't know how to deal with your feelings, then--Ziva." He tries to find her open eyes, but she is too focused on the waterfront once again. "I knew what they could be…how you must have felt, but I couldn't stand to have you take your anger out on me. I had no tolerance for it."

"Is that something I should have apologized for?" Her ton steady, but quiet.

He only nods his answer--agreeing with her, but not wanting to open his mouth and reiterate the truth.

"You had every right not to tolerate it." She sighs. "My behavior was embarrassing. Completely foolish." She looks at him again. "I apologize, Gibbs."

He looks at the waterfront. "Apology accepted."

His phrase sings a soft and soothing lullaby to her ears, but she still feels this indescribable feeling and a notion on not knowing what to say next.

"I am guilty for not thinking much of you while away." She begins her story. "I often thought about Tony…even found time to speak with him through a few emails…before I was put on duty." She pushes the pads of her thumbs together; playing with her fingers in order to keep her focus. "I never thought twice on what you've taught me. I went in for the kill--because it was my job."

He inhales; not liking that she went against the goodness he gave to her. "How many did you kill?"

"At least twenty." She shrugs slightly. "Maybe thirty…some civilians I am sure, but I had not been able to know the difference. Out there in that type of climate…it makes everything as one--the night is the day…the day is the night. Nothing changes."

"Location?"

"Anywhere, but here…" She keeps the information to herself. Telling him will only create more problems in the future.

He knows her reason for not clarifying, but he lets her be.

"I really can not tell you how I felt then…" She can feel her story shifting in another direction. "Besides anger…resentment…" She stops herself, hating that she is becoming repetitive.

The rising temptation to ask her a much more personal question enters his mind, but he is at a loss on how to ask it.

"I am afraid our connection has been lost." She catches the confusion in his stare. "I can no longer read what it is that you are thinking…without you saying it."

He now knows he has no choice, but then to voice himself. "What was that all about, Ziva?" He pauses for a moment. "Why didn't you look at me when I asked you?" The roughness in his tone makes him worry that he might scare her into keeping her mouth completely closed. "…I'd like to know."

It is her turn to interlace her fingers.

"That's what got me." He continues. "Right in the gut--you not being able to focus on me…felt like you shut me out." His throat begins to tighten. "You left me alone."

"My intentions were never that."

"Then what were they?" His voice sharp and demanding.

"To hide my pleasure." Her words are drenched in remorse. "You did not need to see me at my weakest. I am--I was your partner." She chokes on her words. "…We were in a terrible situation, uncomfortable in the hands of a stranger--what did you expect me to do?"

His eyes only glisten in the last bit of sun left in the sky.

"It was my only way of hiding from you." She silences herself while shutting her eyes. "…and when you…I…" She opens them again to only shut them quickly once again. "…I could let go…because it was dark…and you couldn't…I couldn't…"

"See." He finishes for her; swallowing the lump that has formed in his throat. "We couldn't see…" He is waiting for her to open her eyes, but she will not. "I couldn't see." He says it more correctly. "I couldn't see you at your weakest moment…" He puts a hand out to touch her hand, but she flinches from the contact. "S'okay--Ziva…I understand."

Tears spill from the corners of her eyes. Her once clasped hands, disconnect and ball into tiny fists. "You always did."

He is near asking her what the problem is since she has always known, but when he feels her pulling him into a gripping hug, he leaves his mouth closed until she pulls away from him.

"Would have rather known this then…" He can not help, but speak the honest truth to her. "Would have explained a lot…would had made me more patient for your turn around."

"I hardly left an impression there would be a turn around."

"…Can't fight that truth." He agrees with her vocally this time.

The sun has fully set within the thirty minutes they have been sitting and speaking to one another. They both look out at the waterfront, knowing the next major question.

"Where does this leave us?" She is the first to ask. The chilly air making her yearn for a much warmer surrounding.

"Don't know." His voice tired; his eyes just the same.

She straightens; pressing her back against the back of the bench. Looking diagonally at him, she places a hand on his shoulder. "Gibbs?"

"…Yeah?" He stays hunched forward, admiring how the darkness has begun to swallow the waterfront.

"Could we stay in contact?" She skips a beat. "You and I?"

"You mean like good ole pals?" There is a slight offense to his tone. "Not sure I can get on board with ya these days…"

"Agencies aside I think we could be friends." Her tone his hopeful. "Either way I will remember you…always."

He picks up on the newfound sadness in her voice. Sighing, he straightens himself--wanting to put a clean finish to the issue. "That's all we could have." He grins slightly, but it is one he is not sure of. "…guess it's all we will have."

He leaves no room for argument.

And she can't blame him.


	24. Dirty

**Chapter 24: Dirty**

There were certain things Ziva David knew how to accomplish. A short yank on a trigger would kill the person in front of her; their bodies on the ground and her job officially complete. Sometimes usual, everyday acts such as checking her mail and heating a TV dinner made her feel wholesome inside the quiet walls of her unknown apartment. And even something as excruciating as facing those she once spent the majority of her time with, she managed to put her best foot forward and made her rounds--apologizing to each member of the team. A victory she silently addressed when no one was around to listen.

Unfortunately, the team's quirky and flamboyant scientist was the only one determined to give Ziva a hard, excruciating, time by not accepting any means of any type of apology.

The days were longer now. It had nothing to do with the time change--really. It more or less had to do with her lack of free time and lack of light, comfortable conversation during her work hours.

A lecture from Tony on the greatest films of-all-time during a stakeout were greatly missed. An opportunity to give McGee an order--nicely--and without severe tease were greatly missed. And having to be directed by Gibbs to do something--anything--everything, now went unsaid, therefore it went unheard, and sadly now they too were greatly missed.

Gone were the days of her entitlement as a Special Agent for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.

* * *

McGee hobbles to his desk with a single crutch. His comical partner not present, but his workaholic boss very much so.

"MA-GEE!" Gibbs calls roughly.

"Yeah boss?"

"You shouldn't be here." His fingers press a few keys on his keyboard. "Go home. Rest up. Let your leg heal."

"Thought I could get some paperwork done--maybe service our computers."

Leaving the computer alone, he grins at his wounded Agent. "Doing that won't leave much for DiNozzo to do."

A beat skips. "Thought you guys were waiting for a new case to open up?"

"We are." Gibbs agrees without any hesitation. "With all this free time there's no telling what he'll do if I don't throw some work at him."

"I don't think he could handle servicing the computers--"

"Just get the hell out of here McGee!" Gibbs' patience has become no more. "…but don't leave this building without seeing Abby first."

"Why?"

"'Cause she wants ya." His eyebrows lift.

McGee's eyes widen in surprise. Nervously, he swallows. Looking to Gibbs for more clarification, he receives none.

"Better get down there before she calls." Gibbs urges him slightly. "Go on."

"Yes, boss."

Gibbs grins as he watches McGee nearly trip over himself; his nerves one, big mess. As soon as the elevator doors close, Agent DiNozzo makes his first appearance of the day. As he finds his desk, Gibbs checks the small numbers in the bottom-right-hand of his computer screen; DiNozzo made it on time by a fine hair.

"Morning, boss!" Tony is his usual chipper self.

"Mornin'." Gibbs' tone is flat.

Tony's eyes wander to Agent Huntington's desk. Frowning, he looks over at McGee's empty desk. "Where's the rest of the team?"

"Hopefully enjoying their Saturday."

Tony's frown deepens. "Am I in some kind of trouble?"

Gibbs turns the screen of his computer off and begins to stand, "That all depends on what you've got to say to me."

"I love that shirt you're wearing boss--it just screams primal, rugged sexuality…" He sees Gibbs form a stare as he places himself directly in front of his desk. "Not that I should be checking out what you're wearing...or making suggestive comments such as the one I just made, but…well…" Tony head-slaps himself. "Can we start over?"

"Become friends with the Director, I see…"

"Who--Jenn--the Director and I?" He fails at being formal. "Nah--we're just learning to interact with one another…you know, all that Bonnie and Clyde type of stuff I used to do with Ziva." He can see Gibbs rock back and forth on his heels. "…Or not?"

"There something you hiding from me--something that could jeopardize the team?"

"'Course not, boss. I love this team--even McGeek." He passes a sideways glance to McGee's empty desk. "Yes--I'm very keen on our team." He widely grins at his rhyme. "Wow--that's like a DiNozzo original." Gibbs head-slaps him. "I'm back on track--boss."

"Watch your back, Tony." Gibbs looks sincerely at his Senior Agent. "Jenny'll play with you--push you in directions you never knew existed in the first place."

"Uh…could the Director of NCIS really be all that…sneaky?" Tony laughs at Gibbs' seriousness.

"Yes." He is blunt. "Real sneaky--if it means she gets what she wants."

Tony cackles. "Well, I aim to please." He fixes his expensive tie.

Gibbs flinches subtly. "Paperwork."

"Huh?" Tony's laughing ends completely.

"Paperwork--get to it."

"Is this like some sort of punishment?"

"This is _like_ some sort of work." He returns to his desk. "Fix any errors."

"That's so…teacher-ish…" Tony looks longingly at McGee's desk. "That's so…McGee!"

"McGee's been sent home to nurse that leg of his."

"You sent McGee home with a nurse?!" Tony decides on humor, but soon sees that Gibbs' stare is becoming darker. "Shutting up now, boss."

"Uh huh." Gibbs agrees lowly while standing from his seat.

Grabbing his jacket on the back of his chair he slips it on and fixes his collar slightly.

Tony thinks he missed the phone ring, so he springs to his feet. "What do we got, boss?"

"We've got nothing. You've got paperwork--now get to it, DiNozzo. Don't make me tell you a third time." He grabs his badge and his gun.

"Well where ya going?" Tony persists as he sinks back into his chair.

"Haven't decided yet." He smirks while he rushes past Tony. "It's a Saturday."

Tony grumbles as his eyes burn holes into Gibbs' back.

* * *

The office is unsecured now that Ziva successfully breached Kort's security code. Entering had been done quickly and discreetly--leaving her feeling as if she was parading around inside the skin of the one and only Anthony DiNozzo.

Kort had done her wrong--taken an unnecessary step and tapped her phone. Her private conversations were now the newest melody to his ears. An act to show his distrust for her spoke volumes she could not pretend were unheard.

Revenge was the only way.

She was already knee deep in filth--her position as Kort's side _wo_man earned her a position in the snarling underbelly of the Agency. High-profiled killers, drug dealers, and arms dealers had begged for her to attend their self-righteous dinner parties.

In no way were they as brutal as Mossad, but their _intelligence _was properly accounted for--in every situation as far as they were concerned and involved.

The Central Intelligence Agency was the most refined experience she had ever been a part of. Its impression was intended to make her feel bettered--if not then at ease, but instead she felt violated and dirty.

And Gibbs made sure she never forgot it.

The five letter word coated her like a bucket of oil-based stain--one that was fresh, yet unable to wash away.


	25. Position and Rules

**Chapter 25: Position and Rules**

Rules, Rules, Rules--and then some. Gibbs' favorite pastime consisted in creating rules, following rules, and teaching rules. Which rules?--his rules. One rule, two rules, three rules, four--how many more? Nearly fifty--or just about.

Stand by Gibbs and you were forced to see the world the way he did. Even if only for a moment, it still made such a deep impact that you could never forget it.

Here's your team--teach your team. Scold them whenever you feel the need. Give them orders whenever you're craving the position of authority. Do it--and do it well. Show them who is boss and make sure they never, for the rest of their lives--in or outside of your team, forget it. Study their individual habits, their choice of dress, their human flaws, and love them as they are.

Be their mentor. Their leader. Their parent. Their best friend. Their extended relative. Their everything--and never forget them as one of your own. Never let them down. Never disappoint their expectations. And never walk around them on pins and needle.

_Never let suspects stay together_; 'course in the unforgotten case of Kyle Branson and his grimy goons a time to round up even a _single_ suspect had never come around.

_Never screw over your partner_; Been there and sadly, done that. Cleansing the rule of any and all sexual nature, ordering Ziva to quit had been the highest level of screwing your partner Gibbs had ever managed to accomplish.

_Always wear gloves at a crime scene_; Condoms count in this _case_, too. Lucky for him he was offered a means of protection. Planting his seed inside of Ziva's field would have intensified their breaking relationship--and what else _could_ be left of their relationship now.

_Don't believe what you are told. Double check_; Another enormous error on his part. He took the news of Ziva's death so literal--and he mourned the loss privately--and in his own way. Yet he never thought to think again--to double check. He could have saved his team the blinding heartache. Instead he hid himself away from the world as they all fell apart and reacted viciously in and around him.

_Never be unreachable; _This rule should be shot to pieces--in a barren field where no one ever finds any time to tear away the weeds and start up again. The only person to claim the fault for this was Gibbs himself. He was the lurker in the office, the loner in the basement, and the loser in the _case_. His team was there to serve him well, but he never did find the time to thank them for their determination and their loyalty. He never could be _reachable_ to their needs and wants.

_The best way to keep a secret? Keep it to yourself. Second best? Tell one other person - if you must. There is no third best_; Finally--something he did correctly…sort of. Ducky served his duty as Gibbs' dear friend extremely well, but it was Gibbs' other dear friend who suffered when it was all said and done. Abby felt betrayed--a feeling she never felt from Gibbs and now one she had to learn to deal with whenever she came close to him.

_Never say you're sorry – it's a sign of weakness_; With a rule like that no wonder he found it difficult to take Ziva's repetitive attempts at apologies. He left no room for apology. He left no room for weakness. He demonstrated and accepted a million different human flaws, _except_ one.

_Always be specific when you lie_; An ability that would keep your 'sly meter' on ultimate high as well as help keep a high-profiled case protected. The only downfall was lying to his team who he trusted entirely--as they all once trusted him. Now they drew back from him--kept their private affairs unspoken at work whenever he entered the room. Their business was their business--he no longer was an accepted listener.

_Never take anything for granted_; He could shoot himself in the foot--or down a few bottles of bourbon to ride out the agonizing pain. As much as Ziva was to blame for taking him for granted, he took his team for granted. Arguing with Tony because he cared so much and attacking McGee for being correct in his observations were a couple of good examples. Without these two Agents of his, he would have never returned from Mexico. He would have never properly began his journey through recovery.

_Never go anywhere without a knife_; Ziva knew this better than the rest. Even so, her knife had been located and stripped from her during Branson's torture. She never even had a chance to try and use it in self defense.

_When the job is done, walk away_; Not this time. Not when your mind has been branded with painful memories. Not when you've been stripped of your dignity and a great deal of your self-respect. You can not just walk away. You can not just slap a completion on it. You just can not consider the job as being done…and Branson, though wasting away behind metal bars, knew this from the very moment he began gave his _instructions_.

_Never date a co-worker_; Ah--the famous rule twelve. Perhaps Agent DiNozzo was the only one at a constant battle with this rule since his attraction to previous partner Ziva David was clear--and very present. He could careless of her dealing with Kort and the CIA--he still thought about her. A lover by nature he never once felt wrong such thoughts either. On the other hand, Gibbs clung to this rule for his ultimate protection.

_Always work as a team_; Unless you were forced to have sex with one of your team members. Then all bets are off and you're stuck holding the weight of the world on your shoulders. One; because she insisted and two, because you rather spare your team any pain--and what a waste it all was. A honest to goodness, painful, shameful, crazy, and stupid…waste.

_It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission_; This creates a conflict with the rule about apologizing and weakness. Either way, this never did Ziva any good whatsoever. She sought and he declined. In all fairness, she had done the same as he before she left as instructed.

So many more rules left unsaid, so many more rules to be forgotten. Gibbs' rules were a way to carry on through life with feelings of control. Not that control was intended to be a bad thing, but whatever good came from his rules his team demonstrated more than he had. They showed him up and that made him feel small. It made him feel wrong.

So here he stands--in this position of uncertainty. With nothing, but rules, rules, rules--and then some.


	26. Rain

**Chapter 26: Rain**

**3 Months Later**

Rain floods the streets of the city and its outskirt locations. It is a Saturday mid-morning and the outcome of the day will most likely be filled with rain.

* * *

She descends from the steps barefoot. A fresh cup of coffee warms her hand, but the man sweeping the floor with a large, bristled broom warms her on the inside.

He takes notice to her by passing a glance over his shoulder. He continues to sweep even though the stench of the hot liquid in the coffee mug tempts him.

"You spend an awful amount of time down here." She says as a means to greet him.

"Nothin' awful 'bout it." He says lowly.

Crossing the rest of the distance, she rounds him to stand directly in front of him.

"Mind if I talk to you?"

The small hairs at the back of his neck begin to prickle and the broom he is holding begins to slow. When her free hand touches his forearm, he is forced to look at her.

"'Bout what?"

She can sense how uncomfortable he is, but she needs to know a few things before anymore time passes.

"Could we take this upstairs?"

"Ah come on…" He motions to new pieces of wood that lay against the walls of his spacious basement. "Holly, I've got work to do--been meaning to get to my next project for a few weeks now."

"This won't take long." She is pleading with her eyes.

He hates to give in, but the rational side of him knows that she deserves to have her moment. One where she has the opportunity to ask him questions and one where she should be awarded with honest answers.

* * *

She reaches his bedroom in two seconds flat. She reaches for her clothes while her mind tries to remember where she put her bag for the night.

"Holly--wait." He manages to reach his room at the exact moment she finds her bag.

"I think I've waited long enough." Her voice is strained.

"This isn't fair. I never said I wanted--"

"To get serious? To have something worth…something!" She can hardly find the strength to look at him, but she does because she can not help herself when it comes to his intense stare. "I thought you wanted me, Jethro."

"I do want you--I'm just…everything has happened." He hates the feeling of helplessness. "What do you want from me?"

"Commitment."

"I've been married four times!" His eyes bulge from his skull. "Do you know what that means for a person like me?"

"That doesn't mean anything." She thrusts more of her belongings inside her bag. "Not when the only reason your marriages have failed is due to the fact you've been trying to find an exact replacement for your murdered wife--and daughter. You aren't the type to find a problem in commitment, Jethro. You just aren't the type."

Her words sting him.

"And now you tell me the truth behind your previous team member, Ziva David!" She sighs loudly. "I am not sure why I even put in the effort."

"I put in the effort, too!" His tone loud and angry. "Don't blame me for what happened."

"I blame you for not telling me."

"I don't have to tell you everything--especially when it doesn't affect us…and what we have." She laughs at his words. "What the hell's so funny?"

"If it did not affect us, then why am I five minutes from being out of your front door and out of your life?"

"Because you're demanding something of me that I just can't give you right now." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I can't give you what you need and what you want because I haven't even begun to figure out what it is that I need and what it is that I want. My memories are coming to me in spurts and they're fucking with me."

She understands what it is he is saying, but she has grown tired already. "I am coming up on retirement, Jethro--and I'd like to take it and start something that I know is very real. I can not do that with you…if I have to wait for you to 'possibly' find yourself."

"I don't know how long this feeling will last. I do not know how long it will take me to get back to the now rather than linger in the past."

"Then I don't know how this is going to work." Zipping her bag shut, she turns to face him. "Goodbye, Jethro."

"Holly please--" He puts his hand out to stop her. "Don't make me beg."

Pushing his hand away from her, she blinks back her tears. "Please Jethro, don't make me cry."

* * *

He can feel the dampness of the rain inside his crowded apartment. Clearing his throat, he feels the symptoms of an oncoming cold just around the corner. Of course with a doctor in his life he knows that he will properly be taken care of and the thought alone brings a warmth to the chilling in his bones.

Stretching his arms and legs under his blanket, he yawns loudly. Finishing with his first-thing-in-the-morning routine, he throws his feet over the edge of the bed and looks outside the window. Groaning, he debates whether he should stay in bed for the day or if he should make it his business to take his girlfriend out for lunch.

As soon as he feels the itch to crawl back into bed for at least a few more hours, he hears a knock on his door. Knitting his eyebrows, he reads the clock and wonders who his unexpected visitor could be.

* * *

His infectious smiles does not seem to amuse her. "Come on Ziva, what you have to tell me can't be that serious…"

"It is Tony. It is very serious." She closes his apartment door and enters without asking for his approval first. "Do you mind if I lock this?"

"Depends on what you're gonna do…" He wiggles his eyebrows at her.

"Sit down, Tony." She pushes him backwards with her hand.

"Anything." He says excitedly. "Must I remind you that we are allowed to cross barriers now that we no longer work with each other." He beams. "Rule twelve can officially be ignored."

She finds a seat on his messy couch. "I am pretty sure your girlfriend would have trouble ignoring it…officially." She watches his face turn to stone. "I know about Jeanne--and your undercover operation."

"How?" He has lost any will to hide the truth now that she knows so little, yet so vital information.

"Kort is feeding information to her father--the arms dealer." She takes a folder from inside her coat and puts it in his hands. As he opens it, she continues to speak, "These photos were taken of you and Jeanne…you are being watched, Tony."

Blood boils throughout his body. "You didn't tell anyone about this, did you?"

"I did not." She inhales sharply. "Why would the Director put you in this situation?"

"She wouldn't tell me." He shrugged. "Not like I could say no to her…she is the Director of NCIS after-all."

"Does Gibbs know about this?"

"No one knows, Ziva. Well--'cept you." He runs his hand through his messy hair. "How'd you get these?" He motions to the photos that are now scattered on his coffee table.

"I broke into Kort's office." His eyes grow with interest. "He's been monitoring my phone calls for no reason."

"Pretty risky choice if your phone calls lack a reason, don't you think?" He crosses his arms over his chest. "Come on David--be straight with me. Agent to Agent…what's going on inside the fiery wires of your telephone connections?"

She looks to her hands before standing.

"It's Mossad--isn't it?"

"A friend."

"A friend…from Mossad." He shows her that he is still as sharp even if he has just awoken. "What's this friend want?"

"He only checks up on me."

"Why?"

"Because he is the one that found a place for me at the CIA." She lets her guard slip if only a little. "I'm not sure why Kort listened."

"Kort's dirty." He sees her cringe at his comment. "But you already…knew that."

"Yes--I know this, Tony. I know that he is dirty and because I chose to deal with him I am now supposed to feel the same way about myself!" She snaps. "Perhaps I should get a tattoo--somewhere, anywhere!…informing the entire world that I am a member of the CIA, my partner is Kort--and I only know how to play dirty."

He sees tears brim at her eyes. His arms unfold from across his chest and in a second he is standing close to her. "You risked your life in order to get me this information."

"I had no idea that you were involved…then I saw the pictures." She swallows the lump in her throat and the tears that threaten to spill from her eyes are blinked away. "Use what you now know wisely, Tony--but you are to never tell the Director or anyone else."

He smiles. "Are you asking me to protect you from your father, Ziva?"

"I am asking that you keep your mouth shut." She cringes at the thought of needing protection. "Despite my ordeal I have not become weak."

"…But you feel enough to know that you don't want to die at the hands of your father…and you feel enough to know how providing me with this information could help me save myself in the future of this operation I've been put on…" He puts his hand on her shoulder. "It is okay to feel, Ziva…it's okay to be human."

"I must go, Tony." Her eyes wander to the clock on his cable box. "I am late for work."

Knowing her need to leave, he takes his hand off her shoulder. "You work on Saturdays?"

"I work everyday, Tony." Her tone flat with a touch of sadness. "I will speak to you soon."

"I'll be waiting." He calls from his position as he watches her close the door to his apartment.

* * *

Donald Mallard follows the familiar path to his friends basement. Once there he finds the same man working in the same mundane way.

"There is life outside of this basement, Jethro." Is his way of greeting this friend.

"Same could be said for your working quarters, Ducky." Gibbs reminds him coolly.

"Ah--yes, but I find the dead to be much more civilized than the living." He quips as he makes his way next to Gibbs. "May I ask what this model is of?"

"What's it look like?" Gibbs retorts.

Ducky skips a beat. "I see." Leaving Gibbs' side, he finds a bottle of bourbon. "Do I dare help myself to a taste?"

"Haven't been stuck on it for some time now, Duck." He can not help, but hear his own bitterness in his voice. "Have some."

"There are no glasses…" He looks around the work table.

Gibbs places the hammer down on a stack of cut wood and walks over to his friend. "Pick a jar, any jar." He points to the mason jars full of nails, bolts, screws, and other forms that keep wood in all of his projects secure and together.

"This is rather unsanitary." He calls over his shoulder at an attempt to annoy his friend. "But I suppose a man of your stature finds this to be completely normal."

"It won't kill ya, Duck."

"Bottom's up I suppose." He throws over his shoulder as he downs the little bit of bourbon he poured for himself. "I found that to be…quite refreshing."

The windows inside the basements are covered with tiny beads of water that seem to run endlessly from top to bottom.

"Dreary day, isn't it?"

"Don't mind the rain." Gibbs mutters more to himself than to Ducky.

"Correct me if I am wrong, but you seem to be in a foul mood today, Jethro."

"Opposed to any other day?"

"Well…since the entrance of your lady friend it has been, yes."

The reference to Hollis makes him drop at least five nails onto the concrete of his basement floor. Ducky notices his imbalance, but takes a moment to inhale instead of speaking.

"Hollis didn't do that much damage." He says as he fishes for his dropped items.

"Heaven's no--however, she did do a little good." He remembers their pleasant conversation the night she was waiting for Gibbs to show. "She was a rather good conversation."

Gibbs notices that Ducky's comment is delivered from the past as if he already figured out why Hollis is not present on this rainy Saturday.

"It's a shame you let another one go, Jethro."

The hammer hit's the table. Using one of his hands he grabs the bottle of bourbon while the other fishes for a mason jar, "I didn't let her go--she let me go."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah--that's so." His voice thick with emotion as he pours a more-than-healthy amount of bourbon into a now empty jar.

"She did not take kindly to finding out about Ziva?"

"That was part of it." His gaze stays focused straight ahead of him. "'Course the other part of it had to do with the fact she knew about Shannon and Kelly!" He snaps his neck. "Good to know you make it your personal business to dish out _my_ personal business whenever you see fit."

"She came to me."

"All you had to do was lie." He counter-blasted. "Would have saved me a great deal of pain."

"Oh Jethro--what do you know about saving yourself from pain and heartache?" Ducky can hardly feel for his friend at the moment. "You're the only person I've met who nearly takes pleasure in feeling distraught."

The blood begins to pulse inside of his veins as Ducky continues speaking.

"You could have fixed your troubles with Ziva from the start--instead you acted foolish and landed yourself in a terrible world of turmoil." He stops himself as he feels that he has gone too far. "Hollis wanted to find out what kept you from being open with her and I, as your friend, thought it would serve all of us a great deal of good if I told the truth!" He sighs. "You can not fault me for that, Jethro."

"Yeah." Gibbs tastes his bourbon some more. "Well--she's gone now."

"Then your anger should be directed at her--not me." He takes a few steps closer. "If she had an amount of understanding she would have stayed."

Gibbs continues to sip at a faster rate than usual.

"Did you love her?"

"No." He says honestly. "But I cared for her…deeply."

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Ducky wait's a moment before speaking. "Don't let her leaving stop you from caring…if now is not the time, perhaps later will serve the both of you well."

Gibbs gives him a slight nod, but chooses to say nothing.

"Mother and tea is waiting for me." Ducky announces. "It is best that I leave now."

"Walk you out?"

"I'd like that very much." Ducky smiles warmly at his friend.

* * *

Gibbs pushes a Swifter across the hardwood floor inside of his living room. The mud stuck to his shoes earlier managed to make his usually spotless house look filthy.

Though it is the evening, the rain and the clouds make the day stand still as if time has not passed.

Finishing with the Swifter, he places it inside of his kitchen where other, yet older cleaning products and items are located. Opening his fridge he grabs a beer and makes his way to his living-room couch. As soon as he uncaps the bottle, he hears a cautioned knock on his front door.

Reaching for his weapon he double checks the safety and then tucks it inside the waist-band of his jeans. Walking over to the front door he opens it just as his familiar visitor is about to knock again.

"Abby." He looks behind her and sees her spiffy set of wheels. "Somethin' the matter?"

She crushes him in a tight hug. Tears begin to fall before she can even try to stop them.

"What's wrong, Abs?" His voice full of concern.

"I'm sorry, Gibbs." She closes her arms tighter around him as if she is trying to cut off his air supply. "For everything."

"Abby." He says as calmly as he can as he loosens her tight grip. "Relax before you kill me."

"Sorry." She apologizes again.

Letting go of him fully, she turns around and slams his front door shut. "Can we talk?"

"Sure." He never denies her his time. "What's on your mind?"

"A lot…I mean…a ton…" She sighs. "I'm gonna need more than ten minutes."

He smirks at her tear-stained face and her frantic eyes. "Just opened a beer--want one?"

She lifts a container shaped more like a canteen than a water bottle. Its' black and red Gothic design matches her outfit. "I filled up on some Caf-Pow before I left work."

"They sell them in canteen's now?"

"Well no…but I just ordered this through mortuary-dot-com and I just had to use it!" She squeals.

Turning his side to her, he lets her lead the way into his living-room. "I could light a fire."

"Oh you are such a gentlemen, Gibbs." Her pigtails swing in-sync with each other. "Don't go through all the trouble."

"It's no trouble, Abs." He points to the enormous stacks of wood sitting on either side of his fireplace. "Perfect way to take the chill off."

She smiles warmly. "I'd like that very much." She finally gives in. "Got any marshmallows?"

"Don't push it, Abs." He calls over his shoulder as he kneels in front of the fireplace.

* * *

Inside the cramped apartment, she waits for the ding of her microwave. Without a stove it is the only way she can provide herself with a hot meal.

The rain pouring outside serves as a means of sound since her radio was recently stolen and she never found a heavy interest in television therefore she never thought to purchase a television set.

Hearing the dig of the microwave, she makes her way into her even smaller kitchen and grabs her dinner she is not-so-eager to taste.

The ringing of her phone interrupts her first tasting, but the taste is very bland so there really is nothing pleasuring about it. Picking up her phone, she greets her caller.

"I need your help." Comes Kort's voice.

"What is it?" She dumps her uneaten dinner in her trashcan.

"Meet me at the corner of your apartment building. We'll take it from there."

She hears the line go dead and sighs. Her stomach rumbles, but there is nothing that can be done about it now--duty calls.

* * *

Checking over her shoulders, she then enters a cell phone store. Looking for a clerk, she immediately finds one and begins to voice her request.

* * *

Waiting outside of his apartment, Ziva prays that she is not putting her friend in any kind of danger. Clearing her throat, she looks over her shoulders once more and silently begs for him to be home.

"Ziva." McGee says with surprise lacing his voice. "What are you doing here?" He notices how uneasy she looks. "What's wrong?"

"I need your help." She quickly says. "Can I come inside?"

"Sure." He is pushed out of her way as she comes plowing through his apartment door. Quickly closing it, he bolts it shut with a lock. "What do you need help with?"

She stares at him, debating whether she should feel right or wrong about doing this.

"If you don't talk to me, I won't know how to help you." He snaps her out of her silent battle.

"I need you to service this phone."

"I'm not a cell phone provider, Ziva…" He looks at the cell phone that is now resting in the palm of his hand.

"I need for you to put a block on it."

"Why?" She does not answer him. "What kind of a block?"

"One that will not show my locations."

"Is this a company phone?" He feels the phone begin to warm in his hand as if the CIA was located in the fiery pits of hell. "..Because I could pay the price for interference--"

"It is not a company phone--and I did not purchase it with my own account."

He looks uneasily at her. "What's the purpose of this?"

"Can you or can you not do this for me, McGee?"

"I can…but…" He breathes. "If you're running from something…or someone…I'd like to know."

"If the time arises I will tell you."

"Zi--"

"McGee!" She barks. "Can you or can you not help me?!"

He pauses a moment, then nods. Turning away from her, he puts the phone down on his computer desk. "Make yourself at home--shouldn't be long."

She nods; silently thanking him with her eyes.


	27. Sailing

**Chapter 27: Sailing**

**2 Months Later**

He looks out the window thinking about their lack of friendship--their bond that has been shipwrecked for nearly two years. The reality of it all sleeps deep within him, only awaking when something appears and it happens to remind him of her--and all their lingering troubles they deal with on their own.

Slender fingers reach for the dial of the radio and soon the buzzing of the AM radio is no more. He takes in the pleasure of quietness while slowing his car to a complete stop at the stop light. Checking his watch, he prides himself for being earlier than expected.

* * *

The scorching sun burns the rowdy bodies that have completely taken over the sand. Tons more linger in the moving water while splashing their crushes in the face. Alcohol is present in the atmosphere, but the majority seems to be settling inside their bellies rather than chilling inside several coolers that decorate the beach.

Gibbs groans as he turns his car around as safely as he can. Now driving in the opposite direction, he tries to find another parking location--one closest to the water and as far away from rambunctious college students as humanly possible.

* * *

She leans against the rental car waiting for her former boss to show. Her expression shows tired eyes. A yawn escapes her and she lets it out for anyone nearby to see or hear. She hardly cares at the moment because her body aches for rest she has been kept from for far too long.

The sound of wheels grabs her attention and there, over the barrier of shrubs is Gibbs speeding his way through the slight curve in the road. In seconds his car is successfully parked and he is emerging from it with energy she is rather envious of.

Walking over to the driver's side of the car, she greets him with only with a nod. He does the same, but takes in her haggard appearance before turning towards the trailer attached to his car.

"Need any help?"

He thrusts the key inside of the lock and thinks to himself. Putting the key away in the pocket of his warn jeans, he pulls, then pushes the single trailer door up. "Yeah." He finally answers her.

* * *

The boat is considerably still because the water is calm, but the warming sun has begun to fade quicker than he expected. The air is quiet; a welcoming change from the yells and roars of the students that consumes the beach, but the slight hostility between them still circulates around the space they share.

The feeling is not new. Time and time again, between quick hellos, three minute phone conversations, and hasty late night visits inside the protective walls of his basement--they both seek hundreds of questions which they hardly can muster a good enough answer for. On the other hand, it would be nice if either would make the effort--or take the risk of breaking the thin, fragile sheet of ice.

He turns to her without her knowing and he sees her try to hide her yawn behind her hand. He draws his lips tighter and looks away from her.

* * *

She watches as he carefully opens his backpack. Curiously she keeps her eyes locked on what it is that he is doing.

"I've never seen you wear one of those." She is the first to break the hour and fifteen minute long silence.

"I usually don't, but we gotta eat--right?" He does not wait for her answer before he thrusts a wrapped sandwich in her hands. "It's a standard--that alright?"

"What is standard?" She looks confused.

"The sandwich--it's your average." He sees her confusion deepen. "Got me?"

"Does it not taste very good?"

"No, Ziva--it's just your basic lunch-meat sandwich. Nothing hinky." He stares at her, his own sandwich still resting wrapped in his hand. "Eat it."

"Okay." She agrees as she hurriedly unwraps it and takes a large bite.

He watches her tear the sandwich apart. Knitting his eyebrows, he begins to wonder why on earth she is so set on devouring the meal in front of her. His eyes trail down her body in fear she might have lost weight, but he does not notice a difference in her body mass. In seconds he mentally head-slaps himself--there is no way for him to tell if she has lost or gained any weight anyway.

Reaching into his bag, he hands her a bottle of beer. She grabs a hold of it, but he sees her put it aside as if she does not want it. "You don't want it?"

"Not particularly--no." She picks a tomato out of her sandwich, looks at it, then eats it. "It is alright, yes?"

"Yeah." He agrees casually, but then tosses her a bottle of water he found at the bottom of his bag. "This'll do?"

"Yes." She uncaps the bottle and chugs down a healthy amount.

He knits his eyebrows again, but decides to unwrap his sandwich quickly. If she finds him staring at her, it might just open up another can of worms.

"What is the point of this?" She asks, then takes another bite.

"Point of what?" He says easily around the small portion in his mouth.

"Boating."

"Sailing." He corrects her.

"Same thing, no?"

He lulls his head slightly from side to side. "Yeah--guess so." He takes another bite, this time it is bigger. "What's wrong with sailing?"

"Nothing--but is there an actual point?" She turns her head from him to capture another mental image of the beautiful water. "Do you come here often?"

"No." He puts his sandwich down and brushes off his hands. It is now that he notices how she only has another bite or two left of her sandwich. "Thought it'd be nice to get some fresh air."

"Then why am I here?" The question comes out in more of a demanding tone rather than a light tone, but it is too late--she can not take it back and ask it again.

He swallows the food in his mouth then looks down at his sandwich. He suddenly shrugs, "Fresh air ought to do you some good, too."

She nods once before reaching for the rest of her sandwich--finishing it I one large bite.

"You eat today?"

"Yes." Her face is neutral. "Did you?"

"Coffee this morning." He watches her crumple the wrapper that once covered her sandwich. "Sandwich is all I got."

"That is fine." She makes a weird face. "Is there something on your mind?"

He nearly snorts at her question. There is more than something--one thing, on his mind. There seems to be a million things on his mind these days.

"Nothing important." He falls silent and looks to the water.

She continues to look at him even though their connection has been lost for quite sometime now. There is something lingering over his head like a stubborn rain cloud, but she has no concrete way of knowing if her idea is correct.

* * *

**Two Hours Later**

A angry thunder cloud is stretched out along the sky miles away from them. The water beneath the boat begins to move. A little way from them there are several other boats, yet their owners are sophisticated with their fancy railings and their polo shirts.

"Do you suppose a storm would go unnoticed by them?" Ziva ask while looking at the glamorous sailors.

Gibbs smirks at her question, but does not answer. Instead, he reaches for the rope that is tied to the anchor and begins to pull it in the direction of the boat.

"Why would they waste time sitting around?"

"We're kind of doing the same thing, Ziva." He mutters more to himself than to her, but keeps a strong focus on what it is he is doing. "We should get going anyway--storms comin'."

She turns her head to look at him. Her forehead creases while she checks her watch. "What was the point of this, Gibbs?"

"Point?" He sounds somewhat annoyed as he tosses the anchor in the corner of the boat. "Come here, will ya?"

She does not see how she can not so she walks over to him. When he stands tall before her, she easily takes a step back--nervous from the closeness. He notices her drawback, but does not take offense knowing if he does she will only slink away from him even more.

"You know what we're sailing on?"

"It is a boat, no?"

"It is--it's your boat." He curls his finger and beckons her closer. "See for yourself."

Caution is clear on her face, but his soft expressions pulls her closer to him. With her shoulder touching his, he hunches over the edge of the boat a little, waiting for her to do the same. When she does, she shrugs.

"Take a closer look." He watches her crunch down and run her hand across the side of the boat. "Satisfied?"

"It is smooth, yes." She notices he is impatient. Sighing, she bends over forward almost as if she is about to take a dive into the water. "I see letters."

"Yeah--and I know what you did." He remembers instantly. "You told me that you changed the name of this boat to my daughter's…and I told you that it was meant for you." He pauses until he sees registration flicker in her eyes. "I switched it back--you're the rightful owner."

Her cheeks flush slightly, but it can hardly be noticed. She completely stands and hangs her head for a minute; trying to gather her thoughts.

"Why would someone sail on a boat named after themselves?" Tony flashes across her mind. "I can only think of Tony doing something as pig-headed as that."

"Big-headed." He corrects her easily.

"Either way--it feels strange." She admits even if she can see disappointment scatter across his features. "It is very kind of you, Gibbs--but I simply can not accept this."

He feels a shift in the wind and for the first few seconds he thinks it can only be from the approaching storm.

"I'd like it if you would."

"It isn't my place to take something like this from you. This is your work--you put time and effort into this."

"Which is all the more reason you should take it." He feels his shoulders grow with tension. "There's not much I can do with it now that I've started a new one."

"Isn't there anyone else you can give to."

"Now why would I give someone else a boat with your name clear across it?"

"Because I do not feel I should have this."

"Just take it."

"No--Gibbs, I will not." She begins to feel that their time spent together for the day is a complete waste. "Perhaps Hollis knows someone."

"No!" He snaps at the mention of 'her' name. "Damn it Ziva, just take it--it'll make me feel better."

"But it won't make me feel better." She shakes her head. "I'm not used to things like this, Gibbs--these gifts. I feel it is wrong for me to take them."

"Everyone gets gifts--even I get gifts." He scoffs. "Don't let the Mossad in you blind you from knowing and accepting kindness."

"This has nothing to do with my Mossad training."

"Then stop being a damn hard-ass, David!" He barks, turning away from her to prepare the boat for their leave.

"I could say the same for you." Her words striking the back of him. "I will not take this so you can feel better about our situation."

"I'm doing what friends do." He says under his breath, but even she can hear him though his back is still turned. "I'm making the effort--just take it for once."

Her lips tighten as she contemplates what he has just said.


	28. Opponent

**Chapter 28: Opponent**

The restaurant is said to only serve seafood. Gibbs is not entirely interested until he sees a sizzling steak walk past his head. He watches as the waiter places it in front of the burly man in his beach clothes and then leaves to take another plate of food to another hungry customer.

Ziva sits with her arms and legs kept closely to her. Five minutes prior to her way of sitting, her foot had accidentally touched Gibbs' foot under the small table. She muttered a sorry to him, but he was more sorry now that he could see her retreating from him.

He feels as if he is on the job. He the investigator--the interrogator and her, the frightened suspect who hasn't got a single clue on what to say next--or knows what to say next, but feels that lying will be the best decision for the time being.

And he hates feeling this way. He is not on the job. His weapon is nestled close to him, but he has no intention of using it for the rest of the day. And his badge is forming a pattern inside his jeans pocket since he has no need to flash it to anyone now or for the remaining hours.

A waiter appears to take their orders, but Ziva tells him they have no decided yet. Gibbs wants to correct her--he knows he wants a steak, but he lets the waiter continue to greet a different party.

"You hungry?"

He knows the question is rather foolish considering they are inside of a little restaurant near the beach, but he makes no effort to take it back.

"A little." She admits though she wanted to say no.

Wanting to question her eating habits springs to his mind for the second time in one day. He clears his throat and decides with their free time he might as well start some form of a conversation whether she wants it or not.

"Haven't found much time to eat?" He begins.

"What do you mean?" She takes her eyes off the menu to stare into his alert blue eyes.

"Saw you chow down that sandwich back on the boat." He shrugs. "Now you're staring the menu down--and backtracking. Thought there might be a reason."

"Yes--I am hungry." She replies simply, but a certain flare of rudeness is heard.

"That all?"

"Yes."

He puts his hands in front of him while his elbows rest on the table. He knows it goes beyond table manners his father instilled into him since he was a child, but he can not seem to really care all that much about it at the moment.

"You lyin' to me?" His tone hot and incredibly bothered.

She blinks at him in hopes it answers his question--or that her attempt to answer his question acceptable.

"…'Cause I don't like it." He raises his eyebrows. "You got that--Ziva? I don't like you lying to me."

"You speak as if I owe you the truth."

"You do!" He realizes then that his bark very well could be worst than his bite. "What's going on with you? You disappear for months on end and when we find time for each other you zip your lips."

She folds the menu and flags over a waiter who indicates he will be with her in a few minutes.

"You listening to me?"

"Yes." She crosses her arms over her chest casually. "I have a job to do, Gibbs. You have your own. I can not help it if it interferes with…whatever plans you have."

"There are no plans." He fights the urge to grit her teeth. "That isn't the point--you know my number." She nods in agreement. "I've just gotten your new number."

"My other number is not a protective line."

"I'm never one to share case details--especially over the phone. We work for two different Agencies--Ziva, our work has nothing to do with our communication unless you've got something going on that you're not telling me."

"Sometimes things should not be said."

"You in trouble?"

"No--Gibbs. I am not in any trouble." She looks around for the waiter; hoping it shows soon. "If I were I would know how to take care of myself."

He removes his hands from the table to cross his arms. "You're doing it again."

"What is it--exactly…that you want from me?" She leans forward to mimic the position his prior position.

"I'm offering my help and you're right in my face--shutting me down."

"I am not shutting you down."

"Yes you are!" He shuts his eyes as the waiter appears. When asked what he would like to eat, he mutters his order not giving Ziva the chance to go first. "And she'll have the same."

As the waiter finishes writing in his pad, he leaves the two flustered Agents to themselves.

"That was not what I wanted."

"Too bad." He throws back at her. "You'll eat it anyway."

"Is this become I would not take your act of kindness?"

"Maybe." He shrugs. "Maybe not."

"You are acting unfairly, Gibbs."

He looks past her shoulders. Through the window he can see the high winds from the storm that has yet to hit.

"I thought we agreed to be civil." She leans a little more into the table. "To be…friends."

"Yeah." He laughs bitterly. "How's that been workin' out for us so far?"

She slowly pushes into the back of the booth; no longer leaning forward. The bitterness in his tone has put her off.

"I am not sure how to continue in this way." She states.

Gibbs feels a weird filling in the bit of his stomach that he has not felt in a such a very long time.

"You're just gonna walk away--again?"

"I did not walk away the first time. You pushed me out!" She shakes her fists madly at him. "Damn it Gibbs--stop being difficult."

"How's it feel to be on the opposite end?"

"Why must we do this each and every time?" Her eyes fill with tiredness.

"We don't gotta--" He sighs after the look in her eyes gets the best of him. "Forget about it--okay? We'll just have some dinner."

"But we aren't solving anything."

"Maybe that's just the way it ought to be--Ziva. Maybe we're just not…supposed to solve anything." He unwraps his knife and fork, preparing for the steak that should be coming in the next few minutes. "Just leave it alone--it isn't worth our time and energy to go through this each and every time."

"Then you will not question me in the future?"

"I won't." He tells her. "…'bout anything."

It is now that she realizes she is not sure how to take his answer.


	29. Snitch

**Author's Note:** Oh there I go again with making annoying errors in the previous chapter. I apologize for that--I have a lot of shit going on and I really shouldn't be sitting down to write fan fiction, but I feel the itch to complete this fic--and the sooner the better. Did I ever say that I lack a severe amount of patience for quite a few things? Anyway--enough about me, right? This is not the last chapter, but the last chapter might be the next chapter.

Now I know--quite a few of those that are reading want things to be fixed between Gibbs and Ziva. I did not exactly cross that line yet--but it is understandable because so much wicked shit has happened since chapter one all the way until--well--now. This is why I've been thinking of writing a second part to this fic. Now--I am not sure in what direction this 'could be' second part will go nor am I even sure how to start the first chapter of this 'could be' new fic. I just wanted to put it out there that I've been thinking about continuing this fic in a way to satisfy several readers. For those that want more--you just might get more. And for those that want to see a bittersweet ending you just might get that. And for those that want to see a nice 'could be' friendship' as well as a 'could be' respectable partnership as well as a 'could be' romantic relationship between with Gibbs and Ziva...you just might get that. BUT...that all will come around when/if I choose to let it come around.

With that said--I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter and I apologize in advance for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. I've been sleepy since I started writing the chapter--but like I said, I've got this damn itch that doesn't want to go away therefore I just forced myself to stay awake. So now I'm gonna shut up...and yeah--most likely another author's note for the last chapter (which very well could be the next chapter--"Chapter 30"). Alright--Later Days--**GEEK**.

* * *

**Chapter 29: Snitch**

Looking through the rearview mirror of her car, she feels the tension from dinner drain from her body. She can relax now--Gibbs is traveling in the opposite direction.

The music blasting through her speakers is suddenly put on an incredible low as she sees the light from her cell phone. Reaching for it with one hand she grabs a hold of it from the passenger seat and reads the Caller ID.

Flipping the phone open she musters enough strength to keep her voice casual.

"Meet me at your apartment in the next five minutes."

"I may run into quite a bit of traffic."

"That is not an option."

The line is dead. Closing her phone she quickly stuffs it inside her coat pocket while her foot presses firmly against the gas pedal.

* * *

Agent Trent Kort paces the floor of the familiar apartment. While its owner is away he finds time to scratch his mischievous bone every now and then. It is against the law for breaking and entering--which he knows, but he has a duplicate of her key--which she does not know.

His fingers mingle with her things. A few odds and ends, a few items of clothing, and a few sheets of paper. It is an invasion of privacy, but he never agreed to allow her any means of privacy. She is his asset--and he knows that she knows.

A footstep alerts him of her arrival, but his position on her small sofa is far too comfortable to leave just yet.

"A minute past, David." His eyes leave his watch.

"I told you there might be traffic."

"And I told you that wasn't an option." Standing up he reaches into his trench coat and pulls out a single sheet of paper. "Interested?"

"Another job?" Her tone knowing--and tired. "I have already done my duty to my dinner."

"With whom I wonder…" He leaves room for her to add on the details, but she keeps her mouth closed. "Must I remind you of why you are here?"

"You are standing in my apartment. That question should be mine, correct?"

He grins at her. "Remind me."

As he comes closer he begins to circle her. At every angle that he stops and waits for a few seconds, she stops along with him. And when he begins to takes small, careful strides again, her eyes follow him around the room.

"May I see it?" Her eyes look to the piece of paper in his hands.

"Phone records." There is no more time left to beat around the bush. "Incoming call from one Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." Her eyes grow at the mention of his name. "Your ex-partner employed by NCIS--currently working in an undercover operation as requested by your ex-superior, Director Jenny Shepard."

"Why is this of any interest to me?" Her need for control is attacking her from within.

"That question should come from me." He throws the paper in her face and watches as it lands on the floor directly in front of her feet. "You broke into my office. You stole my files."

"You tapped my phone!" She barks. "An invasion of privacy."

"Which you were never granted."

"I've worked closely with some of the most ruthless, disrespectful, and inhuman human beings the whole world has not identified yet--and you expected me to take something like this seriously?"

"Watch it--David." He warns her. "You work for me--"

"I WORK _WITH_ YOU!" She feels the tension growing back already.

"You do as I say. You are a guest in the CIA."

"I am an Agent in the CIA." She stresses. "What more much I do to prove myself?"

"There is nothing left for you to do at this time, Agent David--or ever."

"Then what is the point of this confrontation?"

"I'm requesting termination of your position. CIA doesn't need a rat."

"I've only done what you've told me to do!" She can not stop the slight whine that presents itself--and it brings her shame.

"Agent DiNozzo was never a part of what I wanted you to do." He steps swiftly around her. "You went against Gibbs' team."

"Gibbs does not know about this. He does not know about Tony--of this arms dealer. I have not went against him or his team."

"Come on Ziva…" His voice condescending. "You and I both know it will only be a matter of time before Gibbs knows."

"It does not matter."

"How does it feel to cross the same man twice in one lifetime, David?"

"Stop." She puts her hand forward to silence him. "Do not say another word."

"I was directed to be your crutch--and you left me to make moves on your own. I can't stand for a snitch, David--I won't stand for a snitch."

"Then do what you must."

His chest rises and falls. Staring at her he gives her a moment to plead, but she has far too much pride to do such a thing for someone that never meant anything to her in the first place.

Taking a silent breath, he walks past her and lingers by her apartment door. "I will--but by me being here I've already given you the only kindness you'll ever deserve."

His words nip at her flesh and she stills herself, finding the inner strength to take it in small portions.

"When Gibbs finds out you've endangered one of his team members--he'll feel you won't even deserve that."

As the door slams shut, his last words tear through her insides like a surprise storm no one expected.

* * *

Her mind is racing as if her internal clock is spinning forward out of control. So many things that need to be fixed, so many things that need to be completed--and so little time to even mask the terror she can clearly see herself facing.

With the door to his apartment open, Tony takes in the way her facial expressions quickly changed the moment he found her behind his door.

"I must speak with you Tony."

"What is it?"

"May I come in?"

"Yeah…I don't think now's a good time…" He tosses a nervous look over his shoulder before returning his eyes to her. "I'm sort of…busy."

"Kort discovered I obtained information on his dealings with the arms dealer--and that I…I alerted you of my findings." Her eyes turn a shade darker. "How could you call me on the company phone?"

"I made a mistake--didn't realize it until after the fifth ring." He runs his hand nervously through his air as he hears Jeanne sigh from his couch. "What'd he say?"

"That I am finished--with the CIA…with you…Gibbs--the entire team." She does not want to speak the truth in fear he can not emotionally handle it. "I must go, Tony."

"Where?" His mind quicker than she first thought. "Back into hiding?"

"I didn't hide the first time--I went back home…to my father."

He hears his name being called softly. Putting his finger out to Ziva, he disappears behind his front door. Standing there, she grows more impatient as each second passes. Soon Tony makes an appearance for the second time and shuts the door softly behind him.

"Think Papa David will be glad to see his daughter back for a visit?" His grin wide--and blinding.

Her eyes divert to the floor and her mind begins to spin. She can not help, but ask herself how an afternoon on a boat turned into the end of her world.

Tony notices how disoriented she appears to be. "What's going on, Ziva?" He reaches for her, but she pushes his kind hand away.

"There was something I did not tell you when I returned…" She feels as if she is stepping on jagged, steamy lava rocks.

Tony inhales sharply, his emotions begin to run rampant through his suave outer exterior.

A crack in his front door sounds and a curious woman sticks her head past the opening, "Tony?" She looks at Ziva's face and opens the door wider. "What's going on?"

"Nothing Jeanne--just some work I forgot to take care of at the office."

"And it couldn't wait until morning?"

"I'm afraid not." He begins the difficulty of the situation weighing down on him. "Pop another bag of popcorn and find another movie--I'll be back inside in a few minutes."

"…Alright…" She eyes Ziva curiously, but trusts Tony enough to walk away without making an unneeded scene.

Turning back to Ziva, his face creases with urgency. Wild eyes match her nervous ones. "What the hell is it, Ziva--what haven't you told me?!" He swallows; hoping to ease the intensity in his tone of voice. "…After finding out about you and Gibbs…I can take it."

"My father wanted me dead." She watches his eyes harden. "He sent me on a mission far from home, planned to have me killed, and then sent a family friend to…to do the job." Her eyes dart from left to right; not knowing where to look now. "While this friend lied and assured my father of my death, I flew back here…" She finally looks at him. "I would have wanted nothing more than to become a part of the team again, but I could not--not with everything that has happened--and with any relation to me would cause danger to everyone. I could not do that to…the team. I could not make my problem your problem…" His eyes are growing darker. "Damn it Tony, say something already--please. Say something--tell me you understand."

"Does Gibbs know about this?"

She swallows. "…Yes."

He clenches his jaw and holds it that way for several minutes.

"It is better if you did not try to speak to him about this." Her voice a bit shaky, yet mature. "I felt I needed to be honest to him about something--so I decided to inform him of the position I was in. It' is not as if he wanted me back anyway--" Her voice is a tasteless scoff. "And yet--I understood his position." She can sense the resentment in the air. "I would have told you if I thought you needed to know Tony--but you must understand I did not keep this from you to hurt you…if anything I was trying to make you see that things could be better…for everyone." She laughs nervously. "I would have hated to unpack my bags…in front of everyone." She hopes her attempt at a unique simile would lighten the mood, but when she sees his resentment morph into anger, in front of her eyes--straight through his eyes, her attitude changes. "Damn it Tony…don't shut me out…I need--"

"You need a friend?!" He laughs; shock washing over him in his own special way. "Of course someone's got to be the one to inform the others why you were murdered--and by your father." He rubs his teary eyes to hide his feelings from her. "…because of course that double B'd bastard isn't gonna have enough 'guts' to take control."

"Do not speak in that way, Tony." Somewhere in her tone there is a silent plea. "You must not let him know about any of this--it is not your place."

"I've heard that before…" He takes a moment to reflect on past situation that has provoked his own self pity.

Grabbing a hold of him, she shakes him out of his senses, "Listen to me, Tony!" Her voice urgent yet fleeting. "If you tell him, he knows--about you, about the arms dealer…about Jeanne…" She pauses for a moment. "About your second round with the Director."

"I'm not afraid of Gibbs…" He feels insulted. "Not after the hell he put us all through when you left."

"I am as much to blame as he is." She shakes him slightly to get her point across. "You have a job to do…do it."

He feels her releasing him and something inside his head tells him that she could very well be the last time. "Ziva--wait!" He grabs for her, but she is slipping through his fingers. "Don't leave like this…there's got to be a way."

"Not this time, Tony…" Her voice low; her eyes honest.

With his mind racing, he pulls her into a warm hug and squeezes tightly. "Ziva--please don't do this. Don't fighting."

"I will not stop, Tony…" She climbs out of his grasp slowly. "…but I also know I can not protect myself here…I must find a away to stay away from my father…and from here…" Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "It is the only way I can survive."

"I'm terrible at goodbyes." He has no strength for an out-going joke.

She nods; knowingly. Turning from him slightly, she begins to walk towards the elevator. She can feel his eyes burning into the back of head; willing her to turn around. Inhaling sharply, she presses the button of the elevator and forces herself to turn around. She sees a pair of expecting eyes staring back at her.

"…About what you said, Tony…"

"Yeah?" He feels as if he is listening intently while applying complete pressure on the tips of his feet--almost as if he is leaning forward.

"Goodbyes are all I have ever known…"

The doors of the elevator open as if on cue and she turns her back on the dearest American friend she has ever had.


	30. The Letter Part 1

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, the _italics repersent the past_ as usual. Also hope the line breaks aren't too hard/confusing to follow. And this was supposed to be one chapter, but I decided it might be better to split it in half (for some reason I can't think of right now). Anyway, the next chapter "The Letter (Part 2)" will be the **LAST** chapter for **Wandering Around This Town**. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**-GEEK**

**

* * *

  
**

**Chapter 30: The Letter (Part 1)**

Seven respectable individuals dwell on the past in complete solitude…

* * *

Pulling the covers over his fragile, yet strong mother, Ducky lulls her to sleep with a joyful story of his childhood he is extremely fond of and wishes that she too could remember such wonderful memories.

Standing by the door he slowly turns around to look over his shoulder. He watches his mother resting. It is times like these where he can sense an aura of bittersweet-ness surrounding him. To have his mother so close yet so far is a maddening gift.

The soft click of the door echoes inside the large, clean and vacant hallway. Walking down the staircase with ease, he undoes his bow-tie while walking inside the kitchen. Once there he fishes for a left-over tray of cheese and crackers. Reaching for it, he urgently makes it to his living room in order to stifle the slight rumble in this stomach.

Turning to the fire he created an hour or so ago, the burning wood begs to be tended to. Poking at the log he reaches for another and quickly throws it inside.

Walking over to his wine cabinet, he takes out one of his finest and most-aged wine in the house. Popping the cork, he pours himself a little more than his usual, but not enough to keep him from climbing the stairs later to check on his mother.

At the first taste of the sharp cheddar his taste buds come alive. In seconds he takes the first sip of his wine. These two things create the finest moment of the day for him and he kicks off his shoes, though carefully, and soaks in the bliss he successfully created all by himself.

As the ease of the contented moment begins to wash over him, he hears the wood crackle and then the fire makes a soft sizzle all together. He takes another sip of his wine; savoring its rich texture and ruby tint.

Sleep tries to find him now, but a fiery log falls from the top of the wood stack inside the orange, red, and black-like blaze. Quickly he places his wine glass on top of his coffee table and makes his way over to the fireplace. Thrusting the log back into place, he pokes a few others to make sure that the old addition to the pile is as sturdy as it should be.

And without another passing minute, he feels as if déjà vu has taken over his senses…

* * *

_"I had sex with Ziva."_

_The fire fizzles loudly and a log tumbles from the top of the wood stack onto the stone surrounding the floor before the fireplace. _

_

* * *

_

_"She's a replacement for Kate."_

_"I hope you didn't say that directly to her face."_

_"No. It's just between you and I. It's just a way for me to explain her position."_

_"You haven't any right to explain her position, Jethro."_

_

* * *

_

_"I can't love Ziva."_

_"Because of what happened or because you've failed several marriage since the death of Shannon and Kelly?"_

_

* * *

_

The weight of his memories begin to make him tired so he stands from his crouching position and finds his place on the couch, but the memories continue to flow…

_

* * *

_

_"There wasn't anything else left for me to do. She refused to sit down and speak with me."_

_"Oh for god-sakes, knowing you--you went about it the wrong way."_

_

* * *

_

_"Yes, well, Officer David isn't with us any longer…" _

_"A literal shame to see our young Ziva go…" _

* * *

_"Are you telling me you'd like me to trick Jethro into telling me his personal business?" _

_"What he did on the job was uncalled for." _

_"I am sure the same could be said for a certain part of your history with the man in question, Director." _

* * *

_"Anthony let his curiosity take him to the next level." _

_"What'll I do now, Duck?" _

_"I'm afraid you are on your own, Jethro." _

_"I haven't got anyone else to talk to!" _

_"Ziva's an option." _

* * *

"What'd you need to see me about?"

"There's something you should know, Anthony."

* * *

The bitterness of the wine clings to the back of his throat. He swallows again hoping it will go away but it does not. Leaning forward a bit, Ducky places his empty glass of wine down on top of his coffee table. With his now free hand he rubs his forehead while applying a standard amount of pressure.

* * *

The usual energetic Abby Scuito is sleeping soundlessly inside of the vacant bedroom inside Gibbs' home.

The guest bedroom is nothing special--nor moderate. Just a bed with a lamp on top of a nightstand he built in his spare time. Though as plain as it is, she evidently finds comfort in his things in such a way she knows she can never explain.

It is to be expected--she is his favorite.

And as the wind wrestles with the trees outside, Abby can not hear the skilled footsteps of an intruder that lurks on the second level of the home…

* * *

A pale face sits slumped in the far corner of a downtown bar. The body attached to this pale face is sporting your everyday grey t-shirt and faded jeans. The cell phone that usually resides in his back-pocket during football pick-up games lays next to two empty medium sized glasses on top of the wobbly table.

Tony's eyes blur with unshed tears and he feels as if he does not deserve the right to let them fall. Not here of all places; where strangers lurk. Not now when he needs to be brave; unaffected by both past and current events.

He swears he is over it as he flags over a waiter--but he knows it is only being said so she can hear himself speak. He wants to get to Gibbs and get to him good. To find his soft spot and stick tiny, yet effective tiny pins into it repeatedly. He blames him despite all that Ziva has said. He blames him because it is the second time where Gibbs gets to stay and Ziva must leave.

Tony knows this is not fair. He knows he can not let the situation twist because it will not make any amount of clear of sense--but sense is the farthest thing from his mind tonight. All he has is questions--and all he can not have are the answers.

He feels the table vibrate and he finds his phone. Bringing it closer to his eyes so he can see more clearly, he notices Gibbs' name.

"Fuck you."

He lets it rest on the top of the table again as it rings--and rings. His eyes burn; growing redder by the minute as he stares at the five letter name…

* * *

_"Are you crazy? I'm not working against Gibbs!" _

_"It isn't working against Gibbs--it's practical. Ziva just up and left--and the boss man is shootin' the breeze as if it isn't a big deal?" _

_"So now our boss--our leader--is under investigation by us?" _

"…_if we don't start finding answers as to why his fingerprints were on the outside of a condom wrapper, that'll be the only thing about Gibbs that will gnaw at our insides._

_"Everything about him more or less clicks--" _

_"You don't know that, Tony." _

* * *

_"Keep tabs on Gibbs. You're the only Agent with enough skill to go without being noticed."_

_"Gibbs is a sniper. He's the one with enough skills."_

_"Right, but Gibbs is the man of the hour. If he is withholding information about the Branson case we will never get it out of him." _

* * *

The phone is again. Ringing--and ringing. Tony hit's the surface of the table with such force it makes the chilled liquid jump inside his glass. Scrubbing at his face with his free hand his mind remembers the note he found for Ziva from Gibbs inside his basement--and everything else that followed…

* * *

_"If you're so afraid to stick it to Gibbs--why bother?" _

_"Because I care about Ziva…and I want her back." _

* * *

_"Only a matter of time before Gibbs finds out what we're doing, don't you think?" _

_"I gave you a job to do, Agent DiNozzo. Do it."_

* * *

_"Are you trying to get your ass kicked, DiNozzo?" _

_"I could say the same for you, Gibbs." _

_"What are you hiding?" _

_"You givin' me the third degree?" _

_"Somebody's got to do it." _

_"You broke into my house!"_

_"You leave the fucking door unlocked!"_

* * *

"…_you have no right lying to us. We're your team--if you can't trust us then who are you going to trust?" _

_"This isn't about the team!" _

_"What happened?" _

_"None of your fucking business, DiNozzo!" _

_"I'm making it my business. Ziva was the best thing that happened to this team since Kate. She brought back an ease I never thought would exist again." _

_"You're just infatuated with her." _

_"How can you sleep at night?" _

_"You don't know shit, DiNozzo." _

_"I know she's gone…and I know I miss her."_

* * *

_"I know about you and…Ziva." _

_"Tony…it isn't how it sounds." _

_"Ducky told me everything."_

"…_She wouldn't even talk to me about it." _

_"She's dead now." _

_"It isn't our fault." _

_"You should have listened--for once in your fucking life Gibbs, you should have listened." _

_"She left me no choice, DiNozzo."_

_"I'll never understand this."_

* * *

At NCIS Headquarters the squad room is quiet and unproductive except for the former Marine that is settled inside of his desk.

Growing tired of the constant ringing--and waiting, Gibbs ends his connection to Tony's phone and silently scolds himself for bothering his Senior Agent on his requested night off.

Gibbs knows his reason for calling can wait. It is important, but it is nothing that can not be left unsaid until a later time…

* * *

Her hands press against the structure that sits alone in his basement. The act is simple, though personal. It leaves a tingling sensation in the tips of her fingers as her mind repeatedly tells her that she is crossing boundaries she has no right crossing.

As her hands fall from their place against the smoothened wood, she takes a step to his work table and reaches for a thumb tack. Picking one up from his scattered building accessories, she turns around and begins to walk over to the structure once again.

As she grows closer to the new soon-to-be boat, her eyes burn with fear as her forehead creases in pain she can not properly place.

Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulls out a simple envelope with the five letters of his last name scribbled across the surface. As the thumb tack sits loosely in her other hand, she stops moving for a moment to think…

* * *

_"Talk to me!" _

_"Where did you put it?" _

_"I got rid of it…like you said." _

_"Nobody has to know." _

_"Nobody will know." _

* * *

_"Damn it Ziva, this isn't just going to go away!" _

_"I know." _

_

* * *

_

_"I thought I told you to dispose of any evidence." _

_"I did--I got rid of the actual condom." _

* * *

_"I had no choice. If I didn't do it--what would have happened?" _

_"So you're proud of what you did?" _

_"I never said that." _

_"You implied it! _

_"Don't put words in my mouth--Ziva--I'd never be proud of something like that." _

_

* * *

_

_"You going to give me this sort of treatment whenever you see fit?" _

_"Apparently anything of mine that doesn't get you off isn't worthy of your time." _

_

* * *

_

A single tear rolls down her cheek as she remembers how she acted towards him. Her actions were brutal--her words so vile.

* * *

_"Have you really given me a chance to speak?"_

_"I was not aware you knew how to do that."_

_"Don't make this harder than it has to be. You weren't the only one in there that was forced against their will." _

* * *

_"Pack your shit and leave." _

_"First thing in the morning." _

* * *

_"I understand. Thought you would have sooner or later, too."_

_"I was in a terrible place." _

_"SO WAS I! _

* * *

_"This isn't a game, Gibbs." _

_"I've known that." _

_"You are letting the past cloud your judgment." _

_"It's my turn." _

_"I MADE A MISTAKE!" _

_

* * *

_

_"Tell me how you feel, Gibbs." _

_"Wouldn't you like to know." _

_"I always took comfort in your door being unlocked." _

_"That comfort doesn't belong to you anymore, Ziva. That comfort belongs to my team." _

_"You've changed." _

_"It happens." _

_

* * *

_

The stream of tears blurs her vision immensely as the more recent memories fly through her memory as if the sand is near its finish inside an hour glass…

_

* * *

_

"…_you know damn well that any decision I made, you were going to pay for it…and so was I." _

_

* * *

_

_"Didn't know how to deal with your feelings, then--Ziva." _

_

* * *

_

_"You had every right not to tolerate it." _

_

* * *

_

_"I am guilty for not thinking much of you while away." _

_

* * *

_

_"Why didn't you look at me when I asked you?" _

_"You did not need to see me at my weakest."_

_"S'okay--Ziva…I understand." _

_"You always did." _

* * *

_"Where does this leave us?" _

_"Don't know." _

* * *

She holds her breath as a means to cease her sobbing, but it does not help. She needs to leave--and now. Soon Michael will be arriving to assist her with whatever the rest of her life has in store for her.

Shaking her head slightly to try and clear her senses, she uses the hand that is holding the letter to wipe at her eyes.

Extending her hands, she carefully tacks the letter to the side of the structure and inhales sharply--trying to set her strength back in place.

And as her walls slowly begin to build themselves up again--around her feelings, she manages to remember one more thing…

* * *

_"A letter would have been out of the question."_

_"I can read. 'Course I'm no DiNozzo. You find the time to give him a couple of words--but me? Nah--I'm not as important. "_


	31. The Letter Part 2

**Chapter 31: The Letter (Part 2)**

Computer usage serves as a therapy for the distraught Timothy McGee on this breezy night. His mind full of thoughts consisting of Abby and how she fails to see him in the way she once did. She feels his coming together as a means for friendship with Ziva was and is unneeded. It is not jealousy, but anger--and no matter how much he tries to get her to see life outside of being 'Gibbs Favorite', he fails--and the further they drift from each other.

The buzzing of his cell phone breaks his attention and he tears his eyes away from his computer screen. Reaching for his cellular that is directly next to his mouse, he grabs the phone and reads the name across the screen.

"Oh great…" He thinks to himself a few moment before deciding to answer it, "What is it now, Tony?"

"PROBIE!"

"…Yes…yes, that'd be me." He clears his throat as he focuses more of his attention back to his computer screen and the online came that is continuing in front of him. "Any reason for this unexpected harassment?"

"No and there doesn't need to be…see…well…"

McGee looks down at his keyboard, but does not move his hand to hover over the keys, "…what's going on, Tony?"

"I think I'm gonna need some assistance."

"Are you drunk?"

"NO!"

McGee signs out of his game before he is finding his shows. After slipping them on and checking the laces, he reaches for his jacket. "I hope you know I'm in my pajamas."

"…Are they sexy?"

"I'll leave you at the bar--all night…let the morning cleaning crew find you and sweep you into a dusty corner."

"…A little dust never hurt anybody…"

"You want to stick around to find out?"

"Come on McGeek--come and get me."

McGee shakes his head slightly as he locks his front door, "I'm on my way, Tony."

"…thanks."

As McGee climbs into his car, the past comes crashing back to him in waves…

* * *

_"How about Ziva?" _

_"What makes you think she'd do it?" _

_"She hasn't even been here a complete year and she's said no to him more times than either of us have. She's straight to the point--typical Gibbs style. If anyone has the balls to ask him, it's Ziva." _

* * *

_"Ziva's gone." _

_"Where'd she go?" _

_"Home." _

_"…she'll be back." _

_"She quit." _

_

* * *

_

Easily stopping in front of a red light serves as a crutch to the slight shaking his body is going through. He knows it can be caused from the chilly air, but he also knows how much his memories are effecting him at the very moment.

* * *

"_So I miss her…sometimes…but she wasn't Kate." _

_"I thought you liked Ziva." _

_I do…but Tony she isn't here anymore. There's no way to get her back…she's gone. She quit…she didn't want to be a part of our team anymore… Kate never had that option."_

_---------_

_"Ziva's in trouble." _

_"What's happened?" _

_"Thought you didn't care, McGee. Thought Ziva wasn't like Kate."_

_"We've got to tell Gibbs!" _

_"I'm not sure that's such a good idea." _

"…_Gibbs ought to know."_

_"Ziva heading back into the lion's den could never amount to anything good. Gibbs knew this." _

* * *

_"If you're so afraid to stick it to Gibbs--why bother?" _

_"Because I care about Ziva…and I want her back." _

_

* * *

_

Coming to another red light forces him to slow his automobile to a complete stop. The most recent memory unsettles his already jittery stomach. He can hear Tony speak those words, his words--so true…so determined--and it bothers him. The deepness of Tony's raw emotions answers some of his most recent questions since Ziva became a part of the team. Their flirting held a deeper meaning to him now. Their eyes held a deeper pool of stormy colors. Even without a high level of chemistry; something laid between them both.

He is sure of it--Tony and Ziva, more or less, left him with no other way.

Pulling his car into an open slot between two broken down vehicles, he is able to already see Tony trying to make his way to the front door of the downtown bar. Sighing, he throws his car in park, but leaves it on. Opening the door he quickly jogs across the street to meet his could-be friend and his official working partner.

"You owe me."

"Is that anyway to greet a…" Tony knits his eyebrows; his lips twisting in a thoughtful expression. "…Friend--are we friends?"

"I'm sure anything I tell you now will seem like the truth--till the morning." McGee hangs Tony's arm around his neck and over his shoulder. "It'd be better if you answered your own questions."

"Isn't that against the law?"

"What law?" McGee begins to walk; carrying more of Tony's weight than the conversation.

"…to talk to yourself…"

"It's not against the law--it could have you confined by the law…but it isn't against the law."

"I should look into that."

"As much as I'd cancel all of my plans to help you…I think we better just get you down for the night."

"Sounds good--my place or yours?" Tony slows his already slow steps. "What's so funny?"

McGee begins to grin. "Gee Tony, I never knew you felt this way."

* * *

Bourbon burns her throat. She knows very well of its effect on her--especially after so long of not tasting any, but the night calls for pain relief and bourbon is all that she has.

Drowning her sorrows--and her wrongs is the weakest thing she never knew she could accomplish. Tonight marks the night--the first night--her gut telling her that that there will be more nights such as these. Whether she is ready for these nights or she isn't, they will be right around the corner…much like Gibbs' desk.

And in that desk she knows lies the truth and the memories of events that have left such lasting impressions on her and those she works so very closely with…

* * *

_"Fingerprints on a condom wrapper?" _

_"It's a tactic I'm known to have used before." _

_"It was Ziva, wasn't it?" _

* * *

The truth she--and everyone now knows sends a jolt to her heart. Her hand captures the bourbon bottle and she pours herself the second glass. She is not sure why--she has told him she understands what his position was, but the fact still remains that the woman she owes her life two slept with the only man she thought herself to ever love--even if the feeling came in aimless spurts, sexual encounters, and rambling thoughts.

Still, the feeling was real…and so were the memories that would not let up now that her second glass of bourbon neared its finish line…

* * *

_"Do not create a conflict of interest." _

_"I hardly think taking out this son-of-a-bitch falls within the usual lines of what a 'conflict of interest' is." _

_"He deserves this. I deserve this." _

_"Gives a whole new meaning to 'taking one for the team', Jethro." _

* * *

Her face proud as she pours the third glass of bourbon. That is her Jethro--considerate and loyal to a fault. To his _family_, to his friends, to his team…and to her. Doing him wrong torments her every now and again, but his ability to look past it in order to lend her his usual words of advice or a helping hand shows his true character.

And she frowns because she knows that no matter how much she had absorbed from his teachings, she never took judging his character into real consideration. If she had her world would be in complete control now.

One where she did not need to secretly use a member of his team to satisfy her own personal interest--and attempt to find some sort of order in her life.

* * *

Tired feet creep slowly into the basement. He is aware of Abby's sleeping form in his spare bedroom and wants nothing more than for her to find a decent night of sleep. Reoccurring nightmares and disrupting daydreams keep her on edge and unable to produce the quick answers he so desperately depends on while working cases.

His eyes fall on the decorated boat structure first because he knows it never to be there. Moving his eyes and looking around his basement while his feet keep him in place, he checks for any sign of an intruder.

One of Abby's deranged boyfriends come to mind and he feels a fire begin to burn in the pit of his stomach. Taking a step forward, he decides to reach the envelope and read it before alerting Abby. The last thing he wants to do is wake her from her sleep and create panic in her life.

Yet, as he contemplates calling in the rest of his team to dust for fingerprints and turn his entire house into a crime scene, he sees his names quickly written across the front of the envelope. His eyes automatically squint as he carefully reaches for it. In seconds he tears the opening from the top and pulls the piece of paper out quickly.

The words before him are very personal; handwritten. Taking the tack out of the wood, he leaves it in the palm of his hand as he walks backwards until his lower back brushes the end of his work table.

As he reads the first sentence his eyes begin to flicker away from the letter as means to find whatever composure he has left for the rest of the letter he must read. His gut tells him it is important, but something else inside of him tries to prepare him for why he feels the uncertainty that he does.

With his eye lids closed, he squeezes them tightly for a moment before opening them again and readjusting his eyes to the letter...

* * *

_Gibbs,_

_Your craftsmanship with boats is admirable, but I suppose you have been told this before. By the end of this letter you will find an address to the location of the boat--"Ziva". Your kindness will not be forgotten, but I simply can not accept ownership of your work._

_I have made mention to this being a letter, but I assume you have gathered as much already. I hate the reasoning behind this letter, but I feel it is better than what it could have been if I were to have written it in the past…_

_What has become of our relationship is nothing to be proud of nor did it leave much choice for me when it came to what I needed to do--what I needed to tell you. A letter was my own way of getting through--and it was also my only way of correcting one of my many mistakes._

_I had to run. I can not provide you with any information. I will not provide you with any information. As for why--you do not need to know. As for how--you do not need to know._

He grips the sheets of paper tightly inside his hand.

_I am not sure what else I can possibly say to you. Perhaps we are ships that pass in the night--or however that saying goes. I am afraid to believe that our time to mend our broken friendship has fallen short--and can never be corrected. At one time maybe, at two times--likely, but not now--not anymore…and you can not hate me for that._

_I've shattered the team once--I've shattered the team twice. Please do something for me--make them understand that my leaving was never intended. That my intentions were to remain in DC--to remain close enough as close would ever allow a person like me._

Anger flares inside of him at the responsibility she is leaving with him until a piercing pang of hurt hits him for the first time--in a long time.

_You warned me of Kort--of the way he works and the things he does. I should have believed in you…like I found myself starting to do before Branson--before the nightmare, but I failed. Once again I failed you even without stepping foot back on your team. I was wrong--I knew this…and you were bothered. I saw it in your eyes and I heard it in your voice._

_Now it is too late. Now I have disappeared--fallen off the face of your earth. It is okay for I knew I could never belong again like I once did._

_I suppose I should leave now--bid you a final farewell and hope that you find content, however, through your travels…forever and more._

_Thank you Gibbs…for your time and patience…and I am truly sorry our time had been a limited supply we used so poorly._

_-Ziva_

_

* * *

_

Looking to the last sheet of paper he sees a location for the boat he wished she would cherish. Then he turns this paper over--expecting there to be more words because he does not want the letter to end this way.

He does not want _them_ to _end_ this way.

_**FIN**_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hey everybody, this is officially the last chapter for Wandering Around This Town. I hope you enjoy the conclusion and for those that are interested, I am currently trying to piece together a follow-up to this fic. Right now I am planning a few unique plot lines as well as using a few from the actual show. With that said, this fic began in the _middle/end of season 3_. The follow-up will most likely take place somewhere in _Season 5_ of the show (for some plot lines, as I said, some will be created based on whatever my creaitivity is for the moment as well as plot lines that have existed in Wandering Around This Town.) Anyway--thanks for all the great reviews everybody.**-Geek** (Sabrina)


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